


Possibilities

by bgn



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 21:25:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 134,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2888453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bgn/pseuds/bgn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each chapter stands alone, a different way Daryl and Glenn might have met, some with the ZA and some without. Story is marked complete but I post a new chapter when I have an idea.</p><p>  <b>Chapter 27 is up: Conditions. Glenn and Daryl apply to be foster parents. Sequel to chapter 7, Relations.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Temptation: attraction, seduction.
> 
> Glenn is tempted by Daryl.

Glenn

I'm in the mood to do something reckless. Like get laid at my boss's house if someone tempts me. Someone male of course. I had a couple of girlfriends in my teens but I haven't been interested in girls for years. Not even in high school really – I was just curious.

My boss is Dale Horvath, managing partner of the mental health clinic I joined two years ago with my brand new psychology degree in hand. Is it weird for a therapist to be obsessed with sex? Physician heal thyself! But I'm not usually obsessed, I'm just horny tonight.

Dale's wife Andrea likes to entertain and she's good at it so even a cocktails and canapés thing like this will be interesting. She's a lawyer and always invites people from both her world and her husband's and invitees are encouraged to bring a guest so it's an eclectic mix. You never know who you might meet here. Dale's mechanic Jim has shown up before but I don't see him tonight.

Since I'm not here primarily for sexual fulfillment I mingle after being greeted by Dale and Andrea. I say hello to Amy who's interning at the clinic. Little nepotism there since she's Andrea's younger sister but I've worked with her a couple of times and she's earning her place.

Vic Morales and his wife Miranda tell me they're taking their kids to visit family in Birmingham over spring break next week. He's a nice guy but also a family man and I'm not so I have to feign interest. Shouldn't I be genuinely interested in other people and their lives? Patients, yes. I'm getting paid for that. I know how that makes me sound but I assure you I'm not unique in my attitude. Therapists are people, too. We can't be caring and committed every second.

Rick Grimes introduces me to his wife Lori. Rick is the sheriff of a small town near Atlanta. I was assigned to evaluate a prisoner a few months ago. I didn't do anything spectacular but Rick was impressed. It's not like I saved his life although I may have helped his career a little.

I haven't had a drink yet so I work my way around to the bar in the corner. I don't really like the taste of alcohol and would rather have a soda but that seems wimpy so I man up and ask for scotch. I glance at the nameplate on the barkeep's shirt and say thank you to Randall. I'm always polite to service staff. I delivered pizza while I was in college.

There's a man standing with his back to me and I can't help noticing how well his gray slacks fit. He's holding a beer bottle in one hand and the other hand is in his pocket which tightens the fabric just enough to hug his ass. He's wearing a blue shirt with the cuffs unbuttoned and folded back. His shoulders are broad and his arms look strong. I'm tempted.

The man turns to the bar. His eyes match the shirt and he has a scruffy chin, not a goatee really, just enough facial hair to make him look extremely fuckable. He reaches for a bowl of nuts, picks one out and pops it in his mouth. I'm fascinated watching him chew a cashew.

I sip my drink and look in the bowl. "Brazil nuts – my favorite."

"You like big nuts, huh?"

I smile. He didn't say it in a flirtatious way, more like guys sharing an adolescent joke. But in my professional opinion any man making a joke like that to another man is likely to be open to taking the joke further.

I offer up my name: "I'm Glenn."

"Daryl," the man replies.

"I work with Dale Horvath. How did you end up here?"

"Came with the better half," Daryl says, glancing around a little nervously. There's a ring on his left hand.

"Ah, doing your duty. Business events, in-laws, movies you would otherwise never watch. If you feel like taking a break, there's a room down the hall. I need a break, too."

"Yeah, okay."

People are milling around so it's easy to slip out. There's a bathroom next door and with fluid intake others are going in and out. I pass it and go down two more doors. It's a small sitting room with a couple of armchairs and end tables. Daryl seems ill at ease now that we're alone together. He stares at his hands turning the bottle.

"You don't know many people out there?" I ask to get him talking.

Daryl shakes his head. "I'm not so good with strangers."

"What do you do?"

"I own Dixon Outfitters. Co-own. It's me and my brother. Hunting and fishing and outdoors equipment, stuff like that."

"You must have to talk to people at the store."

"Well, sure, customers. That's different. They come in wanting something."

"I want something, too. You probably know that."

"I figured."

"Are you interested?"

Daryl is biting his lip. He hasn't looked directly at me since the bar. His eyes slide away from mine and settle on my ear.

"Right here?" he asks.

"I locked the door on our way in."

"What if I want to leave?"

"Then you go. But if you're curious … If you like what you see as much as I do …" I put my hand on his leg. He doesn't flinch.

"What would we do?"

"Whatever we want. Whatever feels good." I take the bottle from him and put it on an end table. "Can I kiss you?"

Daryl looks surprised like he didn't expect that to be part of the deal. But he nods. I get up and sit on his chair arm and lean down. He turns his face up and our mouths meet. He doesn't open his mouth but it's not closed tight either. His lips are almost soft at first but firmer as he returns the pressure. They feel a little chapped and I like the roughness when he starts rubbing his mouth against mine. I move my hand up his leg and feel his hand between my legs. It's obvious we're both at the same stage of arousal. Daryl is making sounds … wait, that's me … no, it's both of us.

I lean back. "Do you want my mouth someplace else?"

"I kind of like where it was," he says. "Your hand is good, too."

Mutual masturbation. I'm in. I love getting blown but I'm also a kisser and I'm glad Daryl wants to continue. A minute later our pants are open and underwear pulled down. I straddle him so our cocks are pressed together, hands joined around them. Our mouths are open now and our tongues are imitating our cocks. It's going too fast. I'm not going to last long and it doesn't sound like Daryl is far behind. Normally I'd like to slow down, hold off, but in these circumstances we can't take as much time as we might like. Oh, god, we're going to make a mess. My other hand scrabbles in my pocket for a handkerchief and I get it out just in time.

Our foreheads are on each other's shoulders. Over my own panting I can hear Daryl's labored breathing. When I pull away, his eyes are closed and his mouth is slack. He looks pretty much like I feel. I don't want to move yet but we've been gone long enough. There's a powder room in the corner and if the bathroom in the hall is in use someone might want this one. Although the Horvath house is huge and there are plenty of bathrooms scattered around.

"We should clean up," I whisper.

Daryl nods and gets up still holding me and carries me to the closet that was converted to a half bath with sink and stool. What the hell am I going to do with a handkerchief full of cum? I don't want to leave it behind and I can't carry it around. These things never seem important before the main event. I rinse it, wring it out, wrap it in a couple of tissues and stick it in my pocket.

Daryl leaves first, with his beer bottle. I saunter out a few minutes later. Time to circulate again.

I chat with Dr. Greene and his older daughter Maggie, who was in college with Andrea's sister Amy. Hershel is a true old gentleman of Georgia, a veterinarian, and a widower since Mrs. Greene died last year. The younger daughter Beth is 17 and took it particularly hard. Then her boyfriend Jimmy was killed a few months later and Beth was suicidal for awhile. I'm glad to hear she's doing better now.

Morgan Jones is talking with the Grimes'. They've got sons about the same age. I recognize Otis and Patricia across the room although I don't know them well. Daryl is with them and a woman I've seen but not met. I think her name is Carol. Cute – their names rhyme.

Time to go. Dr. Jenner and Jacqui just left together and a few others are heading for the door. Daryl and I are going on to dinner. His choice since he had to attend a function he's not very comfortable at. I catch Daryl's eye and he leaves the group without showing his eagerness to be gone. We say goodnight to Andrea and Dale. It's not quite spring and the evening is cool. My car is a block away.

"I feel better than I did when we got here," Daryl says.

"Because it's over or because of the sex?"

"Well, both."

"I recall you saying something about my freaky role-playing games when I suggested it on the way over."

"I take that back. Sorry I was late. We would have had time before we left."

"It worked out."

"Yeah, that was all right." Daryl sounds very satisfied.

"Which is not to say that we can't repeat it at home."

"Count on it." Daryl paused. "I was late because Merle called. He gets out of rehab next week."

"He should stay with us for awhile."

"I'll tell him but he probably won't."

"How did he sound?"

"Good. For now. But I'm afraid it'll be like last time. Clean and sober for awhile, maybe a year, and then it'll start up again."

"Always a possibility but maybe not this time."

"I hope not. You didn't sign up for this."

"Yes, I did, Daryl. I love you."

"Love you, too."

"We both come with family baggage."

"But yours is in Michigan."

"Did I tell you Mom and Dad are getting sick of snow? Pretty sure they'll move here when they retire."

Daryl snorts and shakes his head. He doesn't really mind. He gets along with his in-laws although they're not officially family. We've been together three years and never felt the need for a public ceremony, which wouldn't be recognized in Georgia anyway, but we did start wearing rings after the first year. We like them and it stops unwanted interest.

"Where to?" I ask when we're in the car.

"Pancake house," Daryl says happily. He means The Original Pancake House. I should have known it would be that or Denny's or IHOP. I'm relaxed and hungry and a big breakfast sounds just right.

In the booth after ordering I tell him he looks good. Daryl always looks good to me but I want him to know I appreciate his effort tonight.

He shrugs one shoulder to deflect the compliment, as usual. "You said I always wear black and gray so …"

"You changed it up to gray and blue. I approve."

"You're the one looks good. I still remember you in those jeans and tee shirt and cap."

"I'm surprised. You got me out of them pretty fast."

"Well, you look good in anything or nothing."

"Should we get this to go? Are you going to be able to make it home?"

"We'll eat here. But I make no promises about the parking lot."

I believe him and I'm looking forward to making out a little in the car but my hopes are dashed when two of Atlanta's finest stroll in. They nod at us but don't stop. Shane Walsh and Theodore Douglas. We know them because they arrested Merle a couple of months ago which led to his second stint in rehab. They were actually very decent about the situation, much more so than Merle who was not on his best behavior. Even after he was handcuffed Merle flailed around so much that he broke his wrist. The break and the handcuffs cut off the blood supply to his hand. It was bad enough that he might have lost it; as it was he ended up with some nerve damage. I'm hopeful that Merle was brought to his senses by this but Daryl is afraid to believe it will have a lasting effect. Can't blame him – he's lived with Merle a lot longer than I have.

Daryl grins at me. "Guess we better not do anything in the parking lot that will get us arrested."

We're full when we leave and by the time we get home we're also sleepy so we agree to wait until morning.

Home is a one-and-a-half story bungalow set back among some trees behind Dixon Outfitters just outside Atlanta. Daryl and Merle own the property and they used to live together but as Merle's substance abuse required more privacy he moved to their grandparents' place 20 minutes away. It's a cabin rather than a house and it's not in great shape since the old folks passed.

Our half-story is an attic with sloping ceilings that reduce the available living space but it's still almost half the size of the first floor so we put in a bathroom and fixed it up as a master bedroom suite. The two bedrooms below are my office and a guest room where Merle crashes occasionally. I'm buying out Merle's share of the house which is fair to Merle but also does him no favors since it provides him with an income that he doesn't spend wisely.

The next morning I'm awake before Daryl so I pull the sheet back and enjoy the view. Daryl's penis is limp against his leg. It occurs to me that I think of the male member as a penis when it's soft and a cock when it's hard. Daryl just calls it a dick. I run my finger along the underside and swirl my thumb around the head. It twitches. Daryl makes a growly sound in his throat but doesn't wake. I watch his penis turn into a cock. I'm familiar with the process so I wait for each stage: pale pink flushing to dark red, lengthening and thickening before it actually erects. I can tell when it's stiff enough to lift so I spread my fingers, flourish my hands and whisper, "Abracadabra! Shazam!"

I didn't notice Daryl's eyes open. He squints at me through the morning light. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm a magician. I made your cock levitate."

Daryl looks down at himself. "Not much of a trick. He always stands up when you're around." He rubs his hair, stretches widely with limbs akimbo and, since his cock isn't in the way, scratches his balls. "I need to piss."

Me, too. We stand on opposite sides of the stool and hold each other's cocks. This isn't our usual way of visiting the bathroom but every so often we like it. Bladder issues dealt with, we go back to bed and do other things that we like even more.

Over the next few days I think about Merle and what we can do for him. As a therapist I've learned there isn't much unless he wants help. Ironically, Daryl and I met because of Merle. It was the end of my junior year and I was making a late delivery to Dixon Outfitters. It was closed and dark but the order said go around to the side door. There was a man in the stockroom going along the shelves with an electronic device in his hand. I knocked and he jerked with surprise as he turned. It looked like he was so busy he'd forgotten he ordered pizza. He came to the door and let me in and patted his pockets. He was attractive as hell but he wasn't getting free pizza just because he left his wallet in his other pants.

He said, "Just a minute," and disappeared into an office. It was several minutes before he returned with the money but he included a nice tip so it was worth the wait. He looked even better to me at second glance. Maybe he would have got the pizza free after all.

"Sorry you had to wait. I can't eat all this. You want some?"

I was hungry. The pizza would do instead. "Yeah, thanks. My shift just ended."

So we sat down and ate pizza and drank sodas and talked. I found out he was Daryl Dixon and he owned the business with his brother. I told him that I had probably just delivered my last pizza because I got a paid internship for the summer and it would continue through my final year of college.

"Why are you taking inventory alone?" I asked.

"The office manager is on maternity leave and the stock boys are in high school and studying for finals. There's two more on staff but both have stuff they couldn't get out of."

"What about your brother?"

Daryl was quiet for a moment. "Merle's kind of a screw-up. He just went into rehab. And he's lucky because it could have been prison instead."

I was 21 and thought Daryl was at least five years older. Later I found out he's seven years older. I pictured Merle as an irresponsible kid not much older than me.

"Maybe this will teach him a lesson and he'll grow up."

Daryl just looked at me. "Merle is older not younger. He's 35 and he's not real teachable."

Oops. But I was liking Daryl more and more despite the brother. "Listen, can I help?" I asked. "You're already tired and this way you'll get to bed at one instead of three."

Daryl took me up on the offer. I caught on quickly and we worked steadily for an hour. I noticed every time our shoulders touched or arms brushed. I began making sure it happened. And then I reached for a high shelf and my tee shirt rode up and suddenly I felt Daryl's hand on my stomach. His little finger and ring finger slipped inside the top of my jeans and rubbed against the waistband of my briefs.

"What's going on?" Daryl asked.

"I'm not sure but it's happening to both of us," I replied.

Daryl had sounded genuinely bewildered. I was already sure he was gay, too, but I was glad that whatever this was seemed to be a first for him. We didn't kiss yet. We both knew the inventory wouldn't get finished if we did.

We got to bed at one but we didn't sleep until three.

That first time Daryl went to meet his brother alone after rehab but this time we both go. It was Andrea's law firm and recommendations from my clinic that kept Merle out of prison this time. Maybe I shouldn't have gone to bat for him. We probably should have made him accept the consequences but I know more about the Dixon brothers' background now and I wanted Merle to have one last chance.

His eyes are clear and he looks healthier than he has for a year. He's subdued which is different from the belligerence last time. He thanks me for helping and agrees to stay with us for awhile. He says he wants to fix up the Bisbee place. I hope he does. It needs to be done and it would be good for Merle. He's also going to help with the business which Daryl appreciates. These are all good signs but we know better than to bask in success.

Two days later Merle starts sneaking around to make furtive phone calls, presumably to his dealer. He really played us this time. I wonder if Daryl has noticed yet. He can be a little blind about his brother's faults. But when I see him I know he knows and it makes me furious with Merle. Daryl is not a quitter but he looks defeated and I can tell he's wondering if it's time to give up on his brother.

We confront Merle and learn that it's not what we think. Merle confesses that he met somebody and my heart sinks. Two addicts? Love among the needles? Getting involved with someone so soon during recovery is a bad idea. But Merle says she wasn't a patient. A therapist? This is even worse. I'm already planning to report her. But it's not quite that bad because it turns out there's a new program at the clinic where instructors in various sports are brought in to interest the patients in a new hobby which will also give them a physical outlet.

The doorbell rings and Merle brings back a dark-skinned woman, beautiful but severe-looking. "This is Michonne," he says proudly.

Merle announces that he's taken up fencing. Daryl looks puzzled. Barbed wire, picket, privacy, and guys who accept stolen goods are the fences he's familiar with. Michonne explains epées, foils and sabres. She and Merle will give us a demonstration sometime. She also has a collection of katanas and other old swords.

That night after our tension-relieving activities, Daryl and I talk.

"What do you think of Merle's woman?" Daryl asks.

"Scary. Don't let her hurt me." I'm only half-joking.

Daryl chuckles. "Probably be an asset if the world was ending or somethin' but I tell you what, if I didn't have my crossbow and rifle in the house and a store full of guns across the way, I mighta been uneasy myself."


	2. Conviction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conviction: a fixed or firm belief.
> 
> Daryl and Glenn are cellmates.

Daryl

Six months into his two year bit Daryl Dixon got a new cellmate. He'd had one before when he first got sent up; or rather Leroy got Daryl since it was Leroy's house by seniority at that point.

Because of his name, Leroy fancied 'Big Bad Leroy Brown' as the soundtrack to his life but he'd forgotten that by the end of the song Leroy looked like a jigsaw puzzle with a couple of pieces gone. When Leroy went to the infirmary a month later the missing pieces were his right testicle and the tip of his left thumb. Daryl had objected to relieving Leroy's sexual tension and, though smaller than Leroy, Daryl was the meaner junkyard dog. Daryl went to the hole while the incident was investigated. He was eventually cleared on the grounds of self-defense. The unspoken verdict was that if Leroy couldn't control his bitch, he got what he deserved. The warden was wary of Daryl, however, and since conditions weren't crowded at the time - a rare state of affairs in a Deep South prison - Daryl became sole proprietor of Leroy's house.

But prison population ebbs and flows and a few months later it was necessary to double up again. Daryl kept to himself and based on his handling of Leroy, the others left him alone. He didn't appear to be violent unless provoked and hopefully this new fish, a young Asian man on a short bit, wouldn't annoy Daryl. He was also small enough not to be a threat sexually. So Glenn Rhee landed in Daryl's house.

Glenn was cheerful considering his surroundings and he liked to chat. Daryl, who was accustomed to his own company, decided to teach Glenn the lesson about kids being seen and not heard.

"Hey!" Daryl spoke sharply, cutting Glenn off mid-word.

"Yes?"

The kid sounded hesitant. Good. "You ever shut up?" Daryl asked.

"Sorry, I know I talk too much." Glenn sounded apologetic. "I don't even realize it's happening. I'm doing it again. It's a nervous habit." His voice trailed off.

Sweet silence ensued. A few minutes later Daryl was mad at himself for thinking that silence might be overrated. He thought he was used to it, he thought solitude suited him but now, after he had stopped the source, he thought a little conversation wouldn't be unwelcome. If he started it, maybe the kid would keep it going.

"I make you nervous?"

"Oh no, not at all."

The kid sounded as if he was afraid he'd insulted Daryl.

Glenn went on: "I mean, not really. A little, I guess. Maybe a lot."

Daryl smiled to himself. The kid had completely reversed himself in 10 seconds. "How do I make you nervous?"

"Well, it's the whole situation mostly. Prison makes me nervous. And you've been here awhile so you know what's going on and I don't."

"How long you in for?"

"A year."

"What's the beef?"

"GTA."

"You stole a car?"

"More than one, actually."

"Why?"

"I had some financial difficulties."

Daryl frowned. He was sharing a cell with a kid who said 'financial difficulties' instead of 'money trouble.' "Lemme guess. You were puttin' it up your nose."

"I don't do drugs." Glenn was indignant. "A little weed sometimes but that's it."

"You a betting man? Or maybe you like to buy a stairway to heaven instead of just fucking for free on the steps."

"I don't gamble and I've never been with a prostitute."

The kid sounded a little cold about these accusations.

"Okay, I give up," Daryl said. "Why?"

"I was paying off school loans."

Daryl had to think about that for a bit. "Stealing cars to pay for college? Why didn't you get a job? I hear they're hiring college kids."

"Not history majors. It's a glutted market." Glenn sounded glum. "And I didn't want to move away from Atlanta."

"Well, you're about 80 miles away right now."

Glenn kind of giggled. "Yeah, but it's all expenses paid."

Daryl couldn't stop a snort of laughter. This kid was the most good-natured greener he'd ever come across.

Glenn must have figured Daryl was in the right mood for inquisition. "Can I ask what you're in for?"

"Robbery."

"How long?"

"Two years. Got 18 months left."

"But you'll get out sooner with good behavior, right?"

"Nope. You're the one will probably be gone in nine or ten months. I'll be here my whole stretch."

"Why?"

"You ain't the first cellmate I had. I got put in here with Leroy and I musta reminded him of his wife."

Glenn thought about that. "Oh," he said. "You mean he wanted to …?"

Daryl explained what happened. "Self-defense means I didn't get time added to my sentence. But they won't let me go early."

"That's not fair!"

Glenn was obviously on his side which pleased Daryl for some reason. It made him feel protective and he decided to help him. "Kid, you're gonna be meat for everybody if you don't change your ways. You gotta start acting like a convict instead of an inmate."

"What do you mean?"

"You know Kung Fu?"

"That's Chinese. I'm Korean."

"Whatever. You know any martial arts, street fighting, anything?"

"No. I played softball."

"If you had a bat in here you could protect yourself but you're not big, not strong, and nobody's fast enough or smart enough to keep away from some of these perverts. You gotta stay low as much as you can."

And so began Glenn's instruction in surviving prison. Every day Daryl gave a lesson.

"The yard, chow hall, iron pile, anywhere, keep your eyes moving. Don't stare at anybody or anything. If you catch somebody's eye, hold it a second to show respect then move on. But don't look down – that's submissive and weak."

"In the showers don't look at anybody's dick including yours, and don't wave yours around but don't cover up either. In and out fast. And don't get hard."

"Sometimes I can't help it," Glenn said anxiously. He was 22 chronologically but 16 hormonally.

"Then you best yank your doodle in here so it don't happen out there."

Glenn knew he got lucky with Daryl as a bunkmate. That's what it felt like sometimes, being roomies at summer camp. Until the day he got caught.

Daryl was working a kitchen shift when he was approached by a known snitch who nonetheless usually had solid info. Randall baited Daryl by hinting that his news concerned Glenn. The deal was quickly made and Randall sealed it with, "Your boy is getting boned in the cubby" before slinking away to his next transaction.

There was a half-full bag of dirty towels and aprons. Daryl stuffed it with clean ones to fill it up and offered to make a run to the laundry. Glenn was working there today. The cubbyhole was a small spot created by a wall cut around an enclosed vent. It was often ignored by the guards so that's where all kinds of goods changed hands: smokes, drugs, weapons and sex.

When Daryl arrived he clubbed the lookout with the heavy laundry bag and went around the corner. A con named Dave was holding Glenn who was bent over with his ass in the air. Daryl kicked Dave with a fury that put him on the floor then turned his attention to Fat Tony who was apparently too dumb to know that he shouldn't mess with Daryl or anything in Daryl's house. Daryl had saved his shank for this – he hadn't wanted to chance breaking it on anybody but the instigator. It slid from his sleeve seam into his hand. He hooked an arm around Tony's neck from behind. Tony bucked against him but Daryl was a man possessed. He reached below Tony's gut, stabbed at his dick and drew blood. Tony tried to howl but he was being choked. Daryl turned him toward the wall, grabbed his hair and sliced Tony's throat. Tony collapsed, his body shielding Daryl and Glenn from blood spray. Dave, unconscious on the floor, wasn't so lucky. Daryl put his shank in Dave's hand, pressed his fingers around it and hustled Glenn away. The lookout had recovered from being hit by the laundry bag and had wisely disappeared.

There was no color in Glenn's face and he was shaking. Daryl pulled his pants up and told him to get it together and go back to his place. "You didn't see anything and you didn't hear anything. The machines are noisy."

No one was shocked when every man in the laundry told the same tale. Just as had happened with Daryl months before, Dave went to ad-seg and was eventually returned to population with the verdict of self-defense against sexual predations.

"Won't Dave report you?" Glenn asked later in their cell.

"Fat Tony is dead and Dave has a rep now. Unearned but it still gives him cred. He'll leave it alone."

Glenn was quiet for awhile before asking, "Daryl, do you like me?"

"What the fuck kind of question is that?"

"I meant, if you wanted me to help you feel good, I could do that."

"You offering because I kept the others away from you?"

"Not exactly, but I am grateful."

"You don't need to suck me or bottom to prove it."

"What if I wanted to?"

"You queer?"

"Yes."

"And you think I am?"

"No. I don't know. And it doesn't matter."

"I'll think about it." Daryl was thinking of something else right then. "I didn't catch on to you bein' that way."

"You mean I didn't act gay? We're not all flaming queens."

"You ever been with a girl?"

"Just fooling around. I tried once but I couldn't. I knew when I was pretty young."

"How'd you know?"

"The first time I came, my best friend all through school was sleeping over. He didn't know and I never told him. Girls were just kids I knew and liked but never thought of that way."

"You have boyfriends?"

"A few. No one the last two years. What about you? You have girlfriends?"

"Naw. Not like dating and stuff. I'm not the guy girls bring home to meet the folks."

Daryl considered his limited sexual experience. Like Glenn, the first time he came he'd been thinking about a boy at school. They weren't really friends – Dixons didn't make friends – but Rollie was a classmate and Daryl liked him and they were on the same team a lot in gym. The actual coming part had overshadowed what Daryl was thinking about at the time. He'd had the usual fumblings with a couple of girls in high school but they didn't want to go all the way and Daryl had been relieved to stop. Looking back, it seemed clear that both girls expected him to overcome their objections and were disappointed when he didn't.

Daryl had finally fucked a girl just before his 20th birthday because he was embarrassed to leave his teens as a virgin. Jessie was a local woman known to be the town bicycle when she'd had a few drinks. Anyone could ride her. Daryl lost his virginity and his illusions about sex. It just wasn't a big deal. Truthfully, it was more satisfying to jerk off alone with his thoughts. Which he was careful not to analyze later. A man couldn't be blamed for what was in his mind at a time like that, could he?

Daryl supposed it wasn't such a surprise that he was bent that way. He wasn't the most self-aware person but you didn't reach 28 without considering your nature at least subconsciously and then ignoring the evidence if you didn't like what you saw. But now he had to admit that it wasn't the act itself he objected to when Leroy made his move, it was the man.

Daryl thought about Glenn and his offer and shifted uncomfortably. He was hard. He sighed. What were the chances that a closeted redneck would get a gay cellmate? One hundred percent.

It started almost shyly, Glenn using only his hand on Daryl. The next time Daryl made Glenn feel good, too. They progressed to mouths and, because Glenn's need for affection included kissing, they often just lay face to face with pricks and bellies pressed together. Eventually Glenn asked Daryl to top him and then there seemed no reason why Daryl shouldn't try that as well.

Daryl's illusions about sex were restored. This was a big deal after all, though he was also sure the right person made it that way.

Six months later Glenn was notified of his parole after only eight months inside. Daryl had known their time together was running out but he figured they had another month or two. Suddenly it was one week.

Visiting days were Saturday and Sunday and Glenn promised to be there every weekend.

"No promises," Daryl insisted. "You don't know what might happen out there."

Glenn nodded. "But I want to come and see you. I love you, Daryl. And you've only got 10 months left. We'll be together then, won't we?"

"I hope so, kid, but you remember what I told you. You don't make plans in here. Day by day, that's how you get through it." Daryl knew that was a lesson Glenn had never learned. The kid had been making plans since they got together. Daryl knew he couldn't stop him so he went along with it but he never really believed. And now Glenn used the L word. Daryl felt like saying it back but he couldn't deal with what that would mean so he ignored it.

Glenn showed up the first and second weekends. He was starting a job delivering pizza. The owner had been inside years back and he hired other ex-cons whenever he could.

Daryl wasn't surprised when Glenn called the third weekend instead of visiting. He had to work; he was the new guy and had no say in his shifts. He visited the fourth weekend but called the fifth and sixth. Glenn sounded anguished but Daryl was stoic. He was already distancing himself from the thought of Glenn and a life together. Daryl had eight months left inside and Glenn had that same amount of time outside to start a new life without him. Daryl was used to not getting what he wanted. He didn't let himself wonder if he would see or hear from Glenn again.

A few days later weird shit started happening in the world outside. It was serious enough that the warden locked down the facility. Prisoners were out only for meals. No TV, radio, visitors or phone calls. But the guards passed things along. Reports came through of some new virus … a pandemic spreading like wildfire … people eating each other … resurrection of the dead. The rumors got crazier and Daryl was skeptical. He was amused at first to think that prison might be the safest place to wait out the sickness and insanity.

But then the first guard turned. And another one. And then a prisoner. The situation deteriorated rapidly after that. Whatever was going on passed from cellblock to cellblock. Daryl hadn't had a cellmate since Glenn left. He had been part of an early release program for the nonviolent and first-time offenders in order to make room for new intake. Daryl would have been doubled up this week if the facility hadn't been locked down. He hadn't been looking forward to sharing his house anyway and now he was grateful not to be stuck with some sick bastard.

When it became clear that society outside was already breaking down, the prison population began begging for relief. They hadn't been let out for a meal today and there were only some contraband snacks in the cells. Daryl watched and waited. He knew the opportunity would come. Someone would give in and open the cell doors. Thank god for bleeding heart liberals. It would be a free-for-all for awhile but Daryl operated best in that kind of environment.

Daryl pulled the thin mattress off Glenn's top bunk and used his shiv to cut slits in the canvas cover for hand holds. You couldn't let those things get close enough to bite or scratch. Daryl worried about Glenn. The kid was on his own in a world gone wrong and Daryl was sitting on his ass 80 miles away. What if Daryl couldn't find him when he got out of here? What if Glenn was already dead? Daryl shut down those thoughts. He was ready when he heard the snick as the locks released. The barred door of his cell and all the others in his block and no doubt all over the prison slid slowly open.

Daryl gripped his mattress as a shield but just as he was about to leave a crowd of walkers lurched by. They weren't steady on their feet and two of them stumbled into Daryl's cell. He stayed close to the wall, keeping the mattress up as he edged past them. They seemed to have a sense of smell and motion because they were on him in an instant. He was in no real danger, protected by the mattress. He charged forward and swept them into the opposite wall. They fell and Daryl turned back in time to see the door slam shut. A mistake? An automatic override? Somebody having second thoughts about mercy for prisoners? Daryl expected the doors to open again but hours passed and they didn't. All the doors were closed. Probably a few others were trapped as Daryl was but none within his sight.

Meanwhile there was movement under the mattress and Daryl decided to kill the almost dead. There had been talk of reanimation due to electrical synapses still active in the brain. Daryl tested the theory by bashing one walker's head against the wall and floor until he stopped moving. But hell, that would stop anyone. Daryl wrapped the second one in the mattress but left his head free. Daryl's shiv wouldn't penetrate the skull so he plunged it through one eye and the geek went limp.

After that Daryl waited to die like a rat in a cage. He wasn't entirely resigned to his fate but he didn't believe in miracles either. He had some peanut butter and cheese crackers and a couple of candy bars. When the power failed and the back-up generator kicked in, he cleaned the toilet, flushed and let it fill again. The far corner of the cell became his privy. He stopped up the sink and filled that as well. The water shut off a day later. His food was gone. He wondered how long he'd last after the sink and toilet were dry.

Two days later he was weak from hunger and down to the last bit of water. The prison was mostly quiet now. Daryl had shouted at first but it brought only walkers to his cell. They bumped against the bars trying to reach him and finally staggered away, falling down the stairs to the tier below. There was an occasional groan but the walkers visible to him looked to be in a dormant state.

Daryl knew he was slipping in and out of wakefulness. He'd always tried not to have regrets; they didn't seem useful. Here at the end he had only one: that he never told Glenn he loved him. The kid knew it, of course. You didn't share what they had for six months without knowing that your partner loved you even if he was an asshole incapable of saying the words.

"Daryl!"

Glenn's voice. This was a nice dream. "Love you," Daryl whispered.

"Daryl?"

The voice was closer. "Already said I love you," Daryl muttered.

"Daryl." The voice was outside his cell. "Wake up! You're not dead. You can't be."

Daryl opened his eyes. Six weeks back in the world and Glenn got fat. Daryl squinted. Maybe it was just the hockey pads and shin guards that made him look bulky. And the goalie mask that made him look like Jason. "What took you so long?" Daryl rasped.

Glenn took off the mask and grinned. "That's the first thing you say to me?"

Daryl sat up and groped for the bit of sheet he'd ripped off. He soaked it in the last mouthful of water and sucked until his throat didn't feel parched. "I love you," he said gruffly. "Now get me the fuck out of here."

Glenn dug in a backpack and pulled out a bottle of water and a pack of pudding cups. He pushed them through the bars. "Sip the water slowly or you'll throw up."

"Vanilla pudding?" Daryl asked.

"It's bland but it'll give you energy. You shouldn't eat anything heavy right away."

"You know where the door controls are?"

"I checked on the way in. They won't open. Looks like there was a fire. Wires are fused."

"You shoulda brought a cake with a file baked in it. I could eat the cake while you get me out."

"Files are old school." Glenn pulled an acetylene torch and goggles from the backpack and went to work.

Daryl ate the pudding. It tasted wonderful. Cake would have been too dry. His strength was coming back. He finished the water and wondered what else was in that backpack. It was like a magician's hat the way Glenn kept pulling shit out.

Glenn finished just as a walker rushed toward him. Daryl reached for his mattress and stepped through the gap in the bars but Glenn pulled a baseball bat from the backpack and whacked the walker in a beautiful swing that caught him full-body. He toppled over the waist-high rail and Daryl reached it in time to see the walker land headfirst on the floor three tiers down. He didn't get up.

"Guess I didn't have to worry about you alone out there after all."

"Because you taught me how to take care of myself," Glenn said. "But alone doesn't work outside for long. Not now. We have to sleep but they don't." Glenn spied legs under the mattress in Daryl's cell. "Looks like you took a couple out. You know about the brain thing?"

"Yeah, one of the guards told me before he turned. Now he's under that mattress."

"I met some people on my way out of Atlanta," Glenn said as they made their way out of the prison. "An old guy called Dale in an RV with two sisters he rescued. They're going to the quarry near Atlanta. There's water so other survivors will probably be there. I thought we could stop at your house on the way. You said you have a tent and weapons."

"Yeah," Daryl said. "I need my crossbow. You should go on to the quarry but there's somebody I gotta check on. My brother is at Hays."

"You have a brother in another prison? Why didn't I know this before?"

"Merle doesn't like homos. Thought it was better to leave him out of our conversation."

"Will he mind being rescued by us?"

"Pretty sure he'll make an exception. Maybe he's already out. But I gotta know."

"He's probably on his way here while we're going there."

"He'd go to the house first just like us. I'll know if he's been there. I can leave a note."

Daryl liked that Glenn didn't even discuss the possibility of splitting up. They were staying together. He looked around at the destruction outside. Vehicles stopped, overturned, crashed into each other. Dead bodies in various stages of decomp under the hot July sun of Georgia. But at least most walkers seemed to have left the area.

Glenn walked over to a red Scion FR-S. He stripped off his hockey gear and threw it in the back seat. He handed Daryl more water, a loaf of bread and canned meat. "I'll drive. You need to eat and drink."

"You steal this car?" Daryl asked.

"What did you expect?" Glenn said. "Vehicle theft has the highest rate of recidivism. But the owner won't be pressing charges."  
  



	3. Evaluation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evaluation: appraising, finding value.
> 
> Glenn meets Daryl while evaluating Merle.

Glenn

I'm looking over the file on my next patient. I studied it last night as I do with all new patients so this is just a refresher. Merle Dixon has been referred for a court-ordered evaluation due to anger issues and abusive behavior. His mug shot shows a hard face with cold eyes, a mean mouth and close-cropped hair. He probably doesn't know my name. The court usually just gives an address and appointment time to prevent preconceived ideas such as not wanting to be evaluated by a woman. Or an Asian.

A man looms in the doorway. His head matches the mug shot. I stand and smile slightly, careful not to give a big, happy grin. Have to strike the right balance.

"Merle Dixon?"

Merle looks disgusted. "A Chink shrink? I gotta let a Chinaman in my head?"

"Good news, I'm Korean. I'm Dr. Chang-Rhee."

"Chang sounds Chinese."

"It's a common surname for several Asian countries."

"Don't I have the right to an American doctor?"

"I was born in Michigan. Come in and have a seat."

Merle looks around. "No couch? I was plannin' on takin' a nap."

"I bet you can sleep sitting up."

Merle glowers as if he didn't expect me to tolerate much less encourage his taunts. I've found that you can learn a lot by letting a patient act out. For awhile. Have to know when to rein them in.

"You some kind of Doogie Howser? Graduate med school when you were 12?"

"I'm older than I look. And I'm a psychologist not a psychiatrist so I didn't go to med school."

"You're not a real doctor? Ain't that fraud or practicing without a license?"

"I'm a doctor but it's a doctorate of psychology not a medical degree. I assure you I'm fully trained and licensed."

"How come you're seein' me? Is this some pro bono deal?"

"I'm a consultant to Atlanta PD. I also take referrals from surrounding police departments that don't have their own consultants."

"Don't sound like you'll get rich doin' that."

"Oh, I'll be raking it in eventually. But this is a good way to start while I build a private practice."

Merle gives a bark of laughter. He seems to like that I'm up front about my goals in life.

"Let's get started. Can you tell me why you're here?"

"You got my file, Doc. Do your own homework."

"I did, but I'd like to hear your side."

"Well, it was all a misunderstanding."

I page through the file. "Two previous assaults on two different men in two different bars. The third and most recent assault was on your brother. Witnesses claim there was no provocation. Please, Merle, help me understand."

"I was too provoked! Daryl shoulda known what could happen."

"Daryl is your brother? How did he provoke you?"

"Told me he was a fag. My own brother!"

Should I or should I not come out to my new homophobic patient? Sharing personal info is not usually advised but this is relevant and it may even be enough conflict of interest that Merle should be evaluated by someone else.

"I myself am a gay man," I say calmly.

He looks surprised and then mad. "They do this on purpose?" Merle shouts. "Send me to a queer to mess with me?" He stands up and starts for me. No impulse control.

"Sit down, Merle. Let's discuss this. I can refer you if …"

Merle looks enraged. He's not sitting down. I don't think he even heard me. I pull out the Taser. Merle's eyes widen and he tries to stop but momentum is not his friend. I give him a mild jolt and he collapses, twitching. Doesn't look or smell like he lost control of his bladder. I have a glass of water ready when he starts to sit up.

"Do you want to drink this or shall I pour it over you?"

"Could use somethin' stronger," Merle grumbles, but he drinks some water.

"I'm sorry that was necessary, Merle, but you can see that with our size difference I had to even the odds. On the plus side, I believe I understand why you've been referred for evaluation. But I also know that I may not be the right person to perform the evaluation. I'll refer you to another consultant. Let me check if there's a heterosexual white male available." I don't bother to disguise my sarcasm.

"Don't wanna start over with someone else," Merle mutters.

I'm stunned. Not as stunned as Merle was, of course. "You want to continue with the gay Asian who just tazed you?"

"Queer Korean sounds better."

"It is alliterate."

"Don't think you're s'posed to call me illiterate," Merle says belligerently.

"I said alliterate. It means words that start with the same sound."

This meeting has turned surreal. I won't say that out loud. Merle probably doesn't know what it means. I can't say I'm looking forward to having him as a patient but he's not run-of-the-mill crazy, that's for sure. Maybe I'll end up writing an article.

"Seriously, Merle, you have to promise that there will be no violence in the future. You won't get another chance if you break that promise."

"Don't worry. I don't enjoy bein' electrocuted, you know."

"May I ask why you want to continue with me?"

"I feel sorry for you."

I'm stunned again. I try to think like Merle and come up with a reason but I can't put myself that far back down the evolutionary path so I just ask him, "Why do you feel sorry for me?"

"You got two strikes against you: queer and Korean. If you was a woman you'd win the trifecta of affirmative action."

"Do you realize that is homophobic, racist and sexist?"

"Should you be labeling me like that?"

In some twisted way, he's right. Maybe he's more evolved than I thought. Or maybe he just has animal cunning. This isn't going to be easy but I like a challenge.

"You're right, Merle, you deserve a new and unique category of your own. I think we're done for today. How about Thursday at four pm? You shouldn't drive yet. Is there someone I can call?"

"My brother's waitin' downstairs."

"Daryl? The brother you assaulted?"

"Only brother I got. My license got suspended so I been ridin' with him."

"Wait a minute. Do you live together?"

"Yep."

I feel stunned for the third time since meeting Merle Dixon. I've got to meet Daryl. He may need an evaluation as well. I don't mean to prejudge but I suspect he's a codependent enabler. There may be a book in this.

A man is slumped in a chair in the lobby, legs stretched out, arms folded across his chest and a cap pulled down over his face. He's wearing laced work boots and a mechanic's outfit of dark blue pants and a lighter blue shirt. I love a man in uniform. The sleeves are rolled to his elbows and his arms look strong. His shoulders fill the width of the chair.

I cringe when Merle says, "Wake up, Darylena."

"Shut the fuck up, Merle." Daryl doesn't sound mad, just tired. I'm tired of Merle after an hour. I can't imagine the exhaustion of a lifetime.

Daryl spoke without removing his cap. As he sits up and sees me, he looks embarrassed about swearing. He stands up. He's only an inch or two taller than me but better built. His light brown hair is rumpled, his eyes are blue and he's trying to grow a beard or something. The shoulders and arms are even better close up. I did not expect Merle's brother to be attractive. I definitely didn't expect to be attracted.

Merle says, "This here is my doctor."

"Glenn Rhee." I want Daryl to know my first name and I don't want a title between us. I hold out my hand.

"Daryl Dixon," he says in a soft drawl. His hand is warm and firm and I feel a couple of calluses rasp my palm as he pulls away.

"I understand you're driving Merle. I'd like to see him Thursday at four if that's convenient."

"Yeah, I can have him here."

"It would also be helpful to meet with you sometime to discuss the incident. You probably have the best insight into your brother." It's a good idea but I have to admit I only had it after seeing Daryl.

"I don't know. I can take off early to bring Merle but I can't keep leaving work."

"Tomorrow night," Merle says. "I bet the doc will make time after hours."

I'm beginning to warm up to Merle. Daryl stares at him with a lack of brotherly love but says to me, "What time?"

"Seven?"

"Okay." Daryl doesn't sound enthusiastic.

"You should watch Merle tonight for any aftereffects of being tazed."

"What the fuck?"

Apparently the short form of fornicate is Daryl's go-to word for all occasions. I don't mind. He's saying it, I'm thinking it.

Daryl glares at me, immediately defensive on Merle's behalf but then he stops and turns to Merle. "What did you do?"

"It was a misunderstanding," Merle explains.

I say, "You seem to have a lot of misunderstandings."

Daryl laughs. "Yeah, he's the most misunderstood person on the planet."

Daryl's reaction is healthier than I expected. His first instinct was loyalty to his brother but second thoughts prevailed and he questioned Merle's involvement. I'm looking forward to tomorrow night. I suppose I shouldn't be thinking of it as a date but I'm already planning to suggest we grab a bite to eat since it will be dinnertime.

Daryl

Glenn Rhee headed back to his office and the brothers went out to the truck.

"What did you do to get tazed?"

"He mighta thought I was gonna hit him," Merle replied without remorse.

Maybe it wasn't Merle's fault. That doctor seemed like kind of a mouthy young guy. "What'd he say?"

"You two got somethin' in common. You both like dicks."

"He's gay?" Daryl had to think about that. He'd been embarrassed that his first thought on seeing Glenn Rhee was that he was a good-looking kid with a nice smile. Daryl didn't want to start checking out every man he met.

"Yep. You don't have to thank me now. You can wait until after tomorrow night."

"What?"

"Your date. If it goes good, you better be grateful."

"It's not a date. We're talking about you."

"Well, you'll have lots to talk about then. But it's on you now, Daryl. I introduced you but you gotta do your part. I wouldn't advise putting out on the first date. You're new to this and he's a professional man, not some little bar boy."

"It's not a date!"

Merle shook his head sadly. "You're never gonna get laid if you can't see opportunities right in front of you."

"Stop messing with me, Merle. You did not set me up."

"It's good that you don't think so. Shows I was subtle."

Daryl considered whether Merle was full of crap or if it was possible that he might have nudged events.

"Why would you do that? You beat me up when I told you I was gay."

"I've seen the error of my ways. I'm supportin' my brother's sexual deviation. You might see fit to mention that tomorrow night."

"Well, it makes sense now. You want Glenn to give you a good evaluation."

Merle grinned with satisfaction. "I want Dr. Rhee to give me a good evaluation. I guess you want 'Glenn' to give you somethin' else."

Daryl reddened. The first name had slipped out. It didn't mean anything.

Glenn

I don't usually work this late but there are always files to review and notes to update. Daryl is on time. He comes in and looks around my office. It's neutral for a reason, calming colors, nothing too distracting. My desk with bookcases behind it is in the corner. An end table with two chairs at right angles is where most sessions are held. A larger table with four chairs is for conferences. For group therapy the chairs are all moved to the center of the room. A big desk or table between you and a patient is divisive but the small end table is for water and tissues. Those items are needed fairly frequently.

I come around my desk and sit down. Daryl takes the other chair. He's dressed as before. He probably came straight from work, especially if he has to make up time for leaving early to drive Merle.

"I don't want you to feel like you're getting analyzed. I'd just like to know Merle from another perspective and learn about the family dynamic."

Daryl nods but he's wary. He's holding his cap. 'Mooney Motors, Benford, Georgia' is stitched on the front. Must be where he works.

"Merle is 39 and looks quite a bit older than you. Is there a big age difference?"

"Eight years."

That means Daryl is three years older than me.

"What about your parents?"

"Both dead."

Daryl is answering my questions but not volunteering any additional info.

"How did they die?"

"Mama had some woman's trouble and passed when Merle was 16. Daddy drank himself to death seven years later."

So Daryl was 8 and 15 when his parents died.

"Any other siblings?"

"Mama lost a baby between me and Merle."

"Grandparents?"

"All dead when I was too little to remember. Merle knew them."

"Any other family? Aunts, uncles, cousins?"

"None to speak of which means none we speak to. They're not close around here anyway."

"What are your memories of your mother?"

"She was a good mama. Kind of beat down by life, I guess. People say I took after her and Merle is more like Daddy."

"Was there physical violence in the household?"

Daryl is quiet for a moment. He looks down, turning the cap in his hands. "Daddy raised his hand to Mama sometimes. Just a slap. There was no call for it, I know that, but she wasn't hurt bad. He never touched her after she got sick."

"How about you and Merle?"

"We got lickings."

"What was the reason?"

There's a hunted look in Daryl's eyes. He sighs. "There wasn't always a reason, is that what you want to me say? Sometimes we were just there. It was worse after Mama was gone and Daddy drank more. That kinda shit goes on, you know? It happens a lot. We were no different. I was lucky. Merle took the weight mostly. He kept me out of it until he got big enough to stop Daddy."

The way he says it I suddenly wonder if Daddy's liver failed or if Merle stopped him permanently. It would explain a lot but I'm not going there right now.

"Did your mother intervene?"

"Some, but then she got sick and it was just Merle."

I'm not sure Merle is quite as noble as Daryl's recollection but it seems clear that he protected his younger brother as best he could.

"Daryl, thank you for sharing this. I know it's not easy to talk about."

"Well, if it helps Merle. He's not always as bad as he seems. He's okay now with me being gay."

"Did he ask you to tell me that?"

"Yeah, but it might be true. Kind of."

"Why do you think so?"

"He said he introduced us because we're both … you know." Daryl is uncomfortable. "He was joking but that's good when Merle thinks something is funny instead of serious."

"It's almost eight and I haven't eaten yet. If you're hungry, maybe we could have dinner."

"I could eat," Daryl admits.

"Anyplace you'd like to go?"

"Naw, you pick."

I choose a steakhouse because Daryl looks like a red meat man and it's the kind of place where two men can dine together without it being a date. We drive separately, more evidence that it's not a date.

We left the heavy conversation at the office. We talk about our jobs and our lives. I tell him about my family in Michigan and growing up there and moving here for college. Daryl did construction for a few years after high school. He had always worked on family vehicles so he took a course at a trade school to get a certificate and has been at Mooney Motors ever since. I expected Daryl to be nervous but it's easy between us until the check comes and I offer my card. The waiter takes it away. Daryl looks peevish.

"I can pay my way," he says defensively.

"You shouldn't have to. Tonight was my idea."

He still looks sullen.

"If it bothers you, you can pay next time," I suggest casually.

He bites. "You mean, like a date?"

"Why not? Unless you're seeing someone?"

"No. You're not either?"

"Nope."

"But you've had … boyfriends?"

"A few. No one lately. Too busy studying and working the past few years. How about you?"

"I didn't just come out to Merle. Finally admitted it to myself."

"Have you ever …?"

"Yeah, years back. Not around here. I mean nobody Benford knows."

"What about girls?"

"Twice. It was no good. Felt so wrong, that's how I knew."

"Me, too."

It's full dark when we go outside to my car. The parking lot is dimly lit.

"This was fun, Daryl. I'm glad we met."

"Remember, I owe you dinner."

"You don't really. Unless you want to."

"I'll call." He hesitates then leans forward and kisses me. I didn't want to make that first move but I was hoping he would so I'm ready and I kiss him back. It's not an open mouth dueling tongues lip lock but it's a real kiss, brief but not just a peck. I enjoyed it and I think Daryl did, too, even though he mumbles "Night" and quickly walks away to his truck.

"Good night," I call after him.

We wave as we turn in opposite directions from the parking lot.

The next afternoon I ask Merle the same questions I asked Daryl and he basically gives the same story. I expected him to brag about protecting Daryl and perhaps play the martyr but he shrugs it off instead as if he doesn't want to be seen as a good guy.

"You looked out for Daryl when he was younger. Why were you so angry when he told you he was gay?"

Merle looks away. "Always figgered Daryl would get married and have a son, carry on the Dixon name."

"You're straight." I make it a statement not a question.

"Damned straight!" Merle snaps back.

"Do you have trouble performing?"

"Hell, no. And no complaints either." Merle is miffed.

"Are you sterile?"

"Never been tested but don't see why I would be. Never had a disease or injury in them parts."

"Then the obvious question is, why don't you get married and have a son?"

Apparently it wasn't obvious to Merle because he doesn't seem to have seen where I was going. He looks down. "I'm a fuck-up. I know it. Daryl is different. I always thought he was the better bet for bein' a father."

Wow. This is what we in the biz refer to as a breakthrough. Merle is more self-aware than I thought. His motives are misdirected and manifest inappropriately but underneath he has a lot of family feeling.

"I'd like you to think about why you want the Dixon family to continue. Also consider how you might overcome being a fuck-up and carry on the name yourself if it's really important to you. And how sure are you that there isn't a next generation already? Have you ever been drunk and careless?"

All right, that last bit was mean but it was worth it to see the look of shock on Merle's face. And it's a valid question.

Daryl calls later. He probably waited to ask Merle how the session went. Would I have heard from him if I had to use the Taser again?

Saturday night we go to another restaurant, nice but not too fancy. Two doors down is a bar with pool tables so afterward we drink beer and play a couple of games. Daryl is better than me but I make enough decent shots that I don't shame myself.

Daryl had picked me up in his truck which is an older model but well-cared for; not surprising considering his occupation. When he drops me off we make out for awhile. Pretty soon the intensity means we should move indoors or stop. I invite him in and he looks tempted but refuses. That's probably wise. It feels like we skipped any awkwardness and fast forwarded through the usual relationship development. That's amazing but a little scary. Pausing the action is a good idea.

We've already reached the point of calling each other every day. The next weekend we go to a movie and do that straight guy thing where you leave an empty seat between you. After the lights go down, I get up and move next to him. A few minutes later he puts his arm along the back of the seat, touching my shoulders.

This time Daryl doesn't refuse when I invite him in.

Sex with Daryl is a revelation of Daryl himself and the two of us together. Honestly, I've never had it so good. Because Daryl came out recently and isn't open emotionally, I expected him to be passive physically at first. Au contraire. Daryl is comfortable with his body and he's a naturally sexual person. You might think sex is instinctive and natural for everyone but you'd be wrong. For many people it's an acquired skill.

Ever since we shook hands when we met I've been imagining Daryl's hand on other parts of my body. Reality is not a disappointment. It's like mini shocks from a Taser. I'm quivering. We don't do anal. Everything but. Or should that be everything except butt? Neither of us wanted it our first time together. We both knew there would be other opportunities. I'm not shy about expressing my needs and I aim to please my partner. I like it a little rough and Daryl is a good match – forceful but not brutal.

I wake up stretched out on my stomach, head turned to Daryl still asleep beside me. His messy hair makes him look boyish in spite of the scruffy chin. His mouth is open slightly but he's not snoring or drooling. I wouldn't care if he was. I'm past the point of judging things like that. I'm well on my way to accepting family baggage such as the oversize suitcase named Merle.

Daryl is lying on his right side with one arm under the pillow and the other resting along the line of his body. I turn onto my right side and scoot close enough to feel his warmth against my back. He makes an indeterminate sound like "Mmph" and moves closer, his left arm covering my hip. His knees bend a little and his legs draw up and we're spooned. His response is a good sign even though he's still asleep. There's an affectionate nature beneath his caution.

I have a feeling there are decisions ahead. Will we live together? Not right away but I'm sure the time will come when we won't want to be apart. His place or mine? Daryl and Merle share a small house and three would be a crowd. My condo is in Atlanta and Daryl isn't a city boy. It might be nice to find a place of our own between here and Benford. The commute would only be about half an hour each. I should stop planning our life and let Daryl contribute.

But when he wakes up Daryl has something else on his mind. He licks the back of my neck while his hand travels from my hip to my cock, squeezing and stroking. His erection is big and solid against my ass. I want to get my hands on him but the angle is awkward so I turn over. We're facing each other now and our hands and mouths can make contact. Our third time is even better than the first two because we know what to expect. We drift back to sleep after.

The second time he wakes up, his brother is on Daryl's mind: "I think Merle might have joined a 12-step program. Isn't one of them making amends? He's been calling every girl he ever slept with. Why would he do that except to apologize for how he treated them?"

Even with Daryl I won't compromise doctor-patient confidentiality. So I don't tell him Merle is checking for possible progeny.


	4. Education

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Education: acquiring knowledge.
> 
> Daryl learns a lesson.

Glenn

The place is spotless, dinner is ready, and I'm waiting for my Dixon man.

"Hi, honey, I'm home," he singsongs as he opens the door and glances around. "Looks good and smells even better."

"Your dinner is in the oven and there's salad in the fridge. I'm taking off now."

"That's right, your class starts tonight. See you later."

On the drive to Atlanta I wonder how I ended up living in a trailer with Merle Dixon instead of with Daryl in the house up the road.

I know how it happened, of course, but I still can't quite believe it.

Daryl and I met 16 months ago in a dimly lit parking lot. I was TA for a professor at the University where I was almost qualified for my teaching certificate. I had worked late grading papers and when I reached my car the rear driver's side tire was flat. Normally this wouldn't be a problem but the day before I'd sprained my left arm and it was in a sling. It still hurt like a bitch.

I didn't have Triple A or roadside assistance on my car insurance. I tried to think who to call but my friends had plans and I hated to interrupt. The lot was deserted and there was little traffic. A truck pulled in. It looked like the same one that drove by a couple of minutes before. A man got out wearing work pants and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looked a little rough but for some reason I didn't feel like he was going to beat me up and steal my wallet.

"Need some help?" he asked gruffly.

"Oh, no, I don't want to impose. I'll call someone."

"I'm here now. Only take a few minutes. Keys?" He held out his hand.

He opened the trunk, removed the jack and spare and efficiently went to work.

"Thanks," I said sincerely. "This is really nice of you. A Good Samaritan. Did you drive by before?"

"Yeah, saw you looking down at something and you've got that sling."

I explained the sprained arm then introduced myself: "I'm Glenn Rhee."

"Daryl Dixon." He tossed the flat tire into the trunk and packed away the jack. I drive a Mini Cooper and Daryl Dixon looked capable of lifting the car itself. "You're good to go."

"Thanks again." I reached in my pocket. "Let me give you something for your time."

"No!" He sounded almost angry. He softened it by adding, "It was no trouble."

"Maybe I can buy you a drink. It doesn't have to be now. I've already interrupted your evening."

"I was on my way to Frosty's. Just gonna have a beer before heading home. Join me if you want to."

"I'm buying."

Frosty's was a bar a few blocks away. I'd been there a couple of times but it wasn't a regular hangout. The lighting wasn't much brighter than the parking lot but we both liked what it revealed.

I learned that Daryl and his brother had a small business offering guided fishing and hunting trips, anything from a few hours to 10 days. They lived together in the small house they grew up in near Benford. Their parents were both gone. I told Daryl mine were alive and well but living in Michigan where I grew up. There are ways to ask and answer some questions without using the usual words. Within an hour we knew we were both gay and interested.

We ended up closing Frosty's down.

Daryl and I liked each other right away. Things seemed to happen by threes: we kissed three days later, slept together three weeks later, said we loved each other three months after that.

I was about to sign a contract to teach history in Atlanta that fall when old lady Ruskin had a stroke. That's what Daryl called her; I never met her. She was 60 – not all that old – but she had taught history to three generations in Benford, including the Dixon boys. The next generation would be learning from me instead.

So I left Atlanta and moved in with Daryl. Merle bought a trailer and relocated up the road. I felt bad displacing him but it turned out Merle was going anyway. A queer brother in the house cramped his style when he had overnight company. I suggested Daryl and I get our own place and leave the house for Merle but he refused. He could afford a double wide but was getting only a single because he didn't want so much space that his companions might start feeling at home.

Merle is foul-mouthed and a good deal of what he says is despicable so I was surprised to find him congenial, although he never misses an opportunity to make a joke at our expense.

Both Dixons hunt and fish but Merle tends to take the lead on fishing trips and Daryl heads up the hunts. Daryl and I have gone fishing a few times but we don't catch much. As Merle puts it, "When Daryl goes fishin', the only one that don't get away is Glenn."

We lived happily together for a year. That ended two days ago when Merle and Daryl returned from fishing with four men. I'm not always around when they get back but Saturday night I was so I helped them unload.

"This is Glenn, a friend of ours," Daryl said.

The men left. Merle could tell a fight was brewing but he couldn't resist adding to the tension.

"Well, Brother, Friend," he said, nodding to each of us, "I'm heading home to clean up. Y'all have a nice evening."

"Have a good day?" Daryl asked, hoping to defuse the situation.

"Until 10 minutes ago," I said coldly.

"Don't make this a big deal."

"Why not? Why shouldn't I call you on your bullshit? What are 'friends' for?"

"I didn't mean anything by that."

"Because I don't mean anything to you. You can't even acknowledge our relationship."

"Everyone around here knows our relationship. It's nobody else's business."

"I introduce you to people as my partner but you've never introduced me to anyone as your partner."

"C'mon, I'm hot and tired and dirty. I need a shower. You could join me."

I did. I thought Daryl would apologize after he'd had time to think. I know it's hard for him to be open and I don't expect him to explain he's gay to all his customers but he's had other opportunities with casual acquaintances and he's never said the words.

Daryl fucked me raw the way he knows I like it sometimes but he never said anything about introductions. The next morning I brought it up again and Daryl, who thought he fixed everything with great sex, got defensive and wouldn't back down. I went to Merle's trailer.

"Can I stay here?"

"You know where the spare room is but I don't think there's clean sheets."

"I'll do laundry and clean the place for you."

"You were right to leave my brother," Merle said. "Daryl don't appreciate you. I'll be proud to introduce you properly. As my houseboy."

That's how I ended up with Merle. He thinks it's hilarious that he's living with his brother's significant other while Daryl fumes alone. And now I'm on my way to a small community center on the outskirts of Atlanta to guide four people through a study course for their GED examinations. We'll meet three nights a week for 10 weeks. It's my first time teaching for GED so they gave me a small class to start.

Beth and Jimmy are both 18 and would have graduated a month ago but just before senior year they took off together. Not eloping, they just wanted to have an adventure. Crazy kids. Now they want to catch up so they can go to college this fall.

Carol got pregnant and left school to marry Ed. Daughter Sophia is 12. Ed got laid off and Carol wants to work but needs a GED to get anything decent.

Randall dropped out because he had better things to do with his time but four years later he has nothing to do. His uncle will give him a job if he gets his GED.

Time drags between classes. Merle and I get along but I can't stay here forever. I don't even want to stay here much longer. I thought it would be over by now. Daryl and I have had a few arguments but not like this. It's been two weeks and I should go back but something won't let me give in.

Tonight Randall arrives 10 minutes late, looking sick and feverish. I tell him to go home or better still, see a doctor. He refuses, saying he's just tired although he admits he might be coming down with something. When I suggest that no one else wants to get it, he moves to the far side of the room away from everyone, muttering that he isn't even coughing. I continue the class. It's commendable that he wants to stay but students are allowed to miss a few sessions as long as they make up the work.

* * *

Randall tried to pay attention but his concentration was skipping. It was that weirdo this morning that grabbed his arm and scratched him. Randall hadn't thought much about it but the scratch must be infected. He didn't have insurance but he'd stop at the ER after class. They had to treat him even if he couldn't pay. He'd get an antibiotic and maybe score something for pain. Meanwhile, he was serious about sticking out this class. He needed that job from his uncle. But his eyes were tired. Maybe if he closed them for a minute ...

* * *

After Glenn left for Atlanta, Merle went to the house.

"Daryl, you got to make this right. It was your doing and you know it and it's gone on too long. I'm eatin' salad and fruit for fuck's sake."

Daryl nodded. "I'm gonna meet him after class tonight."

Daryl was antsy and got to Atlanta early but he didn't mind waiting an hour. On the drive in his music station kept getting interrupted with news about some outbreak. He hadn't paid much attention at first but now a special report had taken over the programming so he listened.

* * *

It was Carol who called Glenn's attention when Randall's head dropped to his arms folded on the tabletop.

Glenn said, "Let's let him sleep. He probably needs the rest. If he's not better when class is over, I'll drive him to the emergency room."

Half an hour later Glenn thought he'd better check on Randall. What if he was unconscious instead of sleeping? Glenn approached quietly, whispering Randall's name. There was no response. Glenn shook his shoulder but Randall didn't wake up. Feeling frantic, Glenn put a finger to Randall's neck and couldn't find a pulse.

"Oh shit, I think he's dead."

Glenn was appalled by his negligence. He lowered Randall to the floor and yelled for someone to call 911. Glenn pumped Randall's chest. Carol knelt to help him. Beth punched at her cell phone and reported she couldn't get service. Jimmy tried his phone and said all circuits were busy.

Suddenly Randall moaned and moved.

"Thank god," Glenn said. "Randall, we're going to the ER right now."

He was about to ask the others to help him carry when Randall growled and lunged for Glenn who jumped back instinctively. Randall's eyes looked opaque, unseeing. He turned toward Carol who scrambled out of the way.

"Randall, lay quiet," Glenn said but Randall didn't seem to hear. His arms were flailing and he was starting to get up.

"What's wrong with him?" Carol asked. "Is it drugs? PCP?"

"It might be rabies," Jimmy said. "Don't let him get hold of you."

Glenn and Carol were on their feet but so was Randall and he was between them and the door. They tried to run past him but he cut them off. Jimmy and Beth were on the other side of the room near the door. They went into the hall.

"Get help," Glenn ordered.

"Keep trying to call," Jimmy told Beth. He ran out of the building.

Beth was still having no luck with her cell phone. Randall had cornered Carol and Glenn so she shouted and Randall turned toward her. When he got close to the door she shut it. He didn't seem able to open it and soon lost interest in favor of his cornered prey. When he got close to them Beth tried shouting again but Randall wasn't fooled a second time. At least Glenn and Carol had been able to turn tables on their sides to form a barricade while he was distracted.

Daryl was beginning to be disturbed by the news report when a young man came running out of the building. He opened the back of an SUV, grabbed a shotgun and shells and loaded as he ran back in.

Jimmy had hunted all his life. He had put down a dog and a horse that had been childhood companions, but he'd never aimed at a human even in jest. He would wing Randall and they'd get him to a hospital.

Beth was in the hall, looking through the window in the door to the other side of the room where Glenn and Carol were trapped. Jimmy opened the door and yelled. Randall turned in search of more accessible prey. As he crossed the room, Jimmy aimed carefully and hit Randall's right shoulder. Randall jerked but didn't stop. Jimmy's second shot took Randall in the left thigh. Randall stumbled but kept coming, dragging his leg, and then he was on Jimmy. Jimmy went down and Randall fell on top of him, snapping at his face.

There was a whistling sound and an arrow quivered from Randall's belly. Beth was huddled in terror. She looked up to see a stranger with a crossbow looking with disbelief at the scene before him.

"Son of a bitch!" Daryl said as Randall ignored the arrow.

He was loading again as Randall found the soft meat where neck joins shoulder. He bit and pulled away chunks of flesh. Blood spurted and Jimmy's scream was cut off. Daryl put an arrow into Randall's head and this time Randall collapsed across Jimmy as if he was a puppet with the strings cut. Daryl went to check Jimmy.

"Is he …" Beth started to ask.

"Sorry, but he's gone," Daryl said gruffly.

"Daryl!" Glenn and an older woman were in the doorway.

"You okay?" Daryl asked. "He didn't hurt you?"

"We're fine. Well, not fine but not hurt. Randall was sick. We thought he was sleeping but he was dead. And then he wasn't. What's going on?"

"It's on the news. Some new virus. I don't know much more. I think everybody better get the hell home and stay inside."

Daryl picked up the shotgun and they all moved to the entrance. A yellow car was idling at the curb. Ed Peletier got out. Carol ran to him. He held her away from him and looked to the men. "What's wrong?"

They explained. Ed had heard something about it but not paid much attention. He wanted to see for himself. He started inside. Carol had no desire to take a second look but Sophia opened her door. Ed whipped around and pointed at her. "You stay in the car." He pointed at his wife. "You get in the car." They obeyed.

Glenn remained outside as well, holding a sobbing Beth. Daryl and Ed returned, Ed looking shaken. He got in the car and drove off.

"Beth can't drive like this," Glenn said. "I'm going to take her home."

"I'll follow you. We can come back for your car tomorrow."

Beth was almost catatonic but she managed to direct Glenn to a big farmhouse on a handsome spread of land about 10 miles from Atlanta. An older man and a girl a few years older than Beth were waiting.

"My father and sister," Beth choked out.

"Hershel Greene," the man said. "And this is Maggie." Maggie took Beth from Glenn as he told briefly what had happened.

Hershel sighed heavily. "We'll let Jimmy's family know. They live nearby. You should get home now. Be safe."

After they left the Greene farm, Daryl reached over and tugged Glenn along the seat next to him.

"I'm sorry," he said simply. "That's why I was waiting for you. To say that and ask you to come home. Will you?"

"Yes," Glenn replied. "And I'm sorry, too."

"What for? You were right."

"But if I hadn't left we would have worked it out a lot sooner. I love you."

Daryl's arm tightened. "Love you, too, kid. This has been the longest month of my life."

"It's been two weeks."

"See what I mean?"

Glenn nuzzled Daryl's neck. When he turned his head, Glenn touched the tip of his tongue to the mole above Daryl's lip. Daryl let the truck coast to a stop in the middle of the road.

"If you don't stop that shit I'm not gonna make it home. But I'm pretty sure you won't stop."

"It's been two weeks, Daryl, and something very bad just happened. Do you want to wait?"

Daryl pulled into a lane leading to a field. He fumbled in the glove compartment for a bottle of slick then opened his door and got out, pulling Glenn over until his legs dangled out the door. They each opened their own pants, fingers clumsy with the need for speed. Daryl jerked Glenn's jeans down his legs, flipped him over and lubed his fingers. Glenn hadn't said a word but his breathing quickened. He moaned with relief when Daryl inserted a finger. A second finger followed and Glenn started to wiggle.

"Hold still," Daryl growled. His fingers stretched Glenn and he upended the bottle to let the lube dribble directly in. He wiped his fingers on his raging hard-on and eased in quick but careful. He backed up a step, moving Glenn's hips with him so Glenn was bent over the seat at the waist instead of lying on it. It was a perfect position for penetration and the angle was just right to reach the sweet spot. Daryl found a rhythm that let him push in hard and pull out with a slow drag across the gland that left Glenn gasping.

A minute later Daryl collapsed. Glenn could feel Daryl's heart pounding against his back; Daryl felt Glenn's pulse against his neck.

"You come?" Daryl asked.

"No, but that prostate thing was fantastic. It's always feels good but I've never had a prostate orgasm before."

"Thought you might be epileptic the way you were shaking. Your dick need any attention?"

"It's mashed flat. I'll probably be able to see the seat design on it."

Daryl stood up so Glenn could turn over.

"Looks fat and sassy to me." Daryl swiped his tongue around the tip. "Tasty, too." He lowered his mouth down the shaft and weighed the soft sac of Glenn's balls in the palm of one hand. Glenn's hands went to Daryl's head to hold him to Glenn's other head.

When they got home they found Merle on the sofa reading 'Soldier of Fortune' magazine. Merle fantasized about being a mercenary. It was an occupation where his dishonorable discharge from the Army was a plus not a minus, but he had never pursued it and never would.

"You're back late. Stop at the hourly rate motel?"

"We did it in the truck," Daryl said.

Merle nodded. "Cheaper." He looked at Glenn. "Guess you're back where you belong. This place ain't been cleaned decent since you left. What's for supper?"

Glenn grinned and then remembered. "Don't you know what's going on? Have you listened to the news?"

"That virus thing? Another scam hatched by Big Pharmaceutical. In a few days they'll have everybody lining up for a vaccination. Look what happened with them flu shots."

"Not this time," Daryl said. "I wouldn't be surprised if drug companies started it but they lost control. If there's a shot to stop it, I'd like a dose and be glad to pay. I've seen it, Merle. A dead kid trying to eat a live one. He got shot in the arm and leg and it didn't stop him. I put an arrow in his gut and he kept going. Finally went down with a bolt to the brain."

Merle frowned. He would dismiss such talk from anyone else but he believed his brother. "Is this somethin' biblical like Judgment Day? The Apocalypse finally arrived?"

"Zombie apocalypse maybe," Glenn replied.

The men watched the news as they ate. In just a few hours panic had spread to the extent that the National Guard was being called out. They figured the situation would be under control in a few days, although Merle felt his former brethren in the Army might have to be mobilized to get a handle on it.

Merle tramped back to his trailer, pleased to be on his own again. He liked Glenn but two weeks of evenings spent with him mooning over Daryl and days with Daryl moping about Glenn was God's aplenty. And what was it about a homo in the house to make a red-blooded American man feel guilty about admiring young ladies in artful poses? Merle mostly downloaded porn now but he had a choice collection of magazines that he stashed out of sight for the duration of Glenn's visit. Yep, everybody would be happier now that the course of true love was running smooth again.

Everyone had expected Merle to go postal when his brother crawled out of the closet but blood was blood and Daryl was the only family Merle had. Besides, there were advantages. Merle loved his brother and his ego was healthy enough to consider himself the better man in most respects but women always went for Daryl. He was finer featured than Merle and better behaved. But the fact that he wanted to stick his dick in men instead of them was a show-stopper. Nope, Merle wasn't sorry Daryl was out of the running.

The redneck population had taken to a gay Asian teacher better than expected. Glenn wasn't big enough to be seen as a predator so their sons were safe and most parents trusted Glenn with their daughters more than they would with the girls' hormonal male classmates. He was safe from gay bashing as well. No one wanted to face the Dixons if harm came to him. Everybody liked Glenn anyway. He was a favorite teacher with students and popular with the rest of the faculty.

Women were curious about the homosexual thing but they didn't like to bring it up with the objects of interest so why not ask the brother? Merle knew quite a bit and what he didn't know he was happy to invent. The town in general gave the boys no grief. They might be Godless gays but they were Benford's Godless gays. In some perverse way folks were even proud to be seen as tolerant enough to accept queers in the community.

Daryl had never been easy around women or any people really. He didn't learn to flirt until Glenn came along. He only flirted with Glenn but at least he could talk to everybody else without stuttering or thinking he was saying something stupid. Merle had thought his job was making a man out of Daryl. Hell of a thing when another man made your brother a better man.

The next day things were worse instead of better and the trend continued. After a few days Merle moved back to the house so he wouldn't get trapped in the trailer. Best to keep everybody together at a time like this. Cell phones were useless. Land lines lasted longer. The power failed, both electricity and gas. The Dixons had a generator but it required diesel to run and a week later they were out and there was no more locally. No gasoline either and the small town had been looted. It was high summer in Georgia and their well was drying up. Without the pump to bring water from deep below, they couldn't stay. The rivers they fished from were farther away. They decided to head for the quarry near Atlanta where there would be water and probably other survivors.

They packed the truck bed with Merle's motorcycle, two tents and other camping equipment. They had gone back to Atlanta for Glenn's car before things got really bad so they were taking the Mini Cooper, too. They each had a duffel with clothes and they took all weapons and ammunition. Glenn stuffed a backpack with food and water and brought along his baseball bat.

A big RV was parked at the quarry along with several other vehicles including a familiar yellow car. Carol was delighted to see them and called everyone to come and be introduced.

"I'm Merle Dixon," Merle said.

"Glenn Rhee," Glenn said. "And this is …" He turned to Daryl.

"His partner, Daryl Dixon," Daryl said for the first time in public. "Merle is my brother and Glenn and I are together," he added, to make the relationships clear.

The awkward silence lasted only a second or two. An older man stepped forward. "Dale Horvath," he said with a smile. "Glad to have you with us. We've got a good group here. I think we'll all be fine."

Dale always was an optimist.


	5. Transformation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Transformation: a change of nature.
> 
> Daryl is hurt and Glenn is his caregiver.

Daryl

It flashed through his mind as he was thrown that the angle was wrong but there was no time to twist and roll before he landed. He knew he was hurt bad before the pain started. He lay there for a moment, winded, not feeling anything but the need to breathe. Then he felt too much, including his leg bent under him in a direction legs don't bend naturally. Out of the corner of his eye he was aware of the rodeo clowns drawing the bull's attention. Then the medics were there with a stretcher. They put a brace on his neck. He lost consciousness when they straightened his leg.

He came to in time for paperwork at the hospital. A woman read the consent for medical care. It wasn't the first or fourth time Daryl had heard it. It seemed to him that the words made the doctor into James Bond with a license to kill. The hospital was more like Mission Impossible. They would be disavowing all knowledge if anything went wrong. Still, Daryl had no problem with the actual care. Medical people had always put him back together good as new, although they warned him the beating he was giving his body would bite back in old age.

His wrist hurt as he scribbled his name. "How bad is it?"

"Doctor will be with you in a moment," the woman with the folder of papers said. "Is there someone we can call for you?"

"No." Daryl didn't have to think about it. Everybody that might be interested had seen it happen.

The doctor was an orthopedic surgeon. "Your left shoulder was dislocated. That was taken care of while you were out which is the best time anyway. Your left leg is very broken. That's all I know right now. You'll be taken to imaging and probably directly to surgery depending on what the pictures show."

Daryl woke up woozy and sore but with no real pain. Live better pharmaceutically. A woman took his vitals and gave him water. She said it was two in the morning and he was doing fine and the doctor would talk to him at morning rounds. Daryl drifted off.

The surgeon was proud of the job he did on Daryl's leg. Daryl was glad he would walk without a limp. Probably. Eventually. The dislocated shoulder would need to be immobilized for a few weeks because it was the second time it happened and it needed more time to heal. There was a hairline fracture of his right wrist and it hurt to breathe deep but his ribs were bruised not broken.

Daryl started to realize how restricted his life was going to be. "If I can't even get on crutches for a month and I can't use either arm for two weeks, how do I feed and dress myself?" Daryl didn't ask about shitting and pissing. He was sure a bedpan and bottle would be involved and he didn't want to talk about that.

"You'll be in bed so dressing won't be an issue. You'll need help for everything else. And then you'll need rehab. No movement for a month means a lot of work to get back in shape plus therapy for the leg."

"My insurance won't cover all that. I got catastrophic coverage but the deductible will take a lot of my savings." Daryl had never been hurt this bad all at once and the prices hadn't gone down since the last time. He was getting worried.

"I know a guy," the surgeon said. "He's a physical therapist but he can also do home care and he doesn't mind living in long-term. It still won't be cheap but you'll save some money and it will be convenient for both of you. If you're interested I'll have out-patient make the arrangements."

Daryl nodded.

"His name is Glenn Rhee. He'll call you."

"Is he Chinese?" Daryl stopped himself from saying 'Chink.'

"Korean, actually. Is that a problem?"

"Nope." It was true. Daryl wasn't prejudiced but he was a product of his upbringing. He knew the words he grew up with sounded bad. He thought them sometimes but didn't say them.

As the day passed Daryl was thankful this happened on one of his rare rides in Georgia instead of halfway across the country. It would have cost plenty to ship his ass back here, or maybe he would've had to stay in some rehab center or rented a place. He was gone a lot on the rodeo circuit but home was near Atlanta.

Glenn Rhee called that evening. A nurse held the phone to Daryl's ear. There was no discernible accent. Daryl had been afraid he might be an immigrant and they would have trouble communicating. The next day Glenn came to his room. He was in burgundy scrubs. He looked like a kid but he was polite and professional and by now Daryl knew he was 28. They were tentative with each other but it seemed clear that they would get along so Daryl handed over his keys. Glenn would get the Dixon place ready and Daryl would be transported by ambulance the next day.

Daryl was placed in the larger bedroom. It was Merle's but Merle was away in the Army. Glenn would use the smaller bedroom that was usually Daryl's.

Glenn

I'm taking care of a cowboy! Daryl Dixon is the most interesting person I've ever met and I don't even know that much about him yet. He's quiet and it seems natural rather than a result of his injuries. He looks like the type to watch and listen more than he talks.

Even in casts and bandages Daryl is built. His shoulders are broad and his arms are strong from holding onto a ton of bucking beef with horns and hooves. His brown hair is lightened by the sun and there are crinkles at the corners of his blue eyes. I have to stop myself from licking my lips when I look at him. Why are all the good ones taken or straight? He doesn't seem to have a girlfriend but he's probably fucking cowgirls and rodeo groupies. There's a Southeast circuit but Daryl rides the Texas one because it's hardcore. Well, they're all hardcore but Texas is the toughest. I've seen pictures of him in jeans, boots, western shirt and the requisite hat. I've also seen him naked. It's all good.

Daryl

He hadn't been capable of taking in much when he met Glenn at the hospital but at home he noticed the kid was nice looking with brown eyes and that straight shiny black hair Asians seem to have. He looked lean but he must have the muscle to move patients around.

Personal care was as humiliating as Daryl expected but he was in other discomfort as pain meds were adjusted. The second day was smoother and after that it didn't seem worth it to get embarrassed when Glenn was practical about the process. He had a good bedside manner.

There was more embarrassment in store when Daryl was hard the third morning. Glenn acted like nothing was different but Daryl felt like he should apologize. When he muttered "Sorry about that," Glenn just said it was normal and meant he was recovering. Daryl's dick softened after he peed but then he thought about the two weeks until he could use his hands again. He was almost always hard when he woke up but he was still on pain pills. Maybe that would keep him from getting horny.

It didn't. He was hard again the next day and it didn't go away. His left arm was strapped to his chest to keep weight off his shoulder. His right wrist was in a cast that extended halfway up his forearm and down most of his hand. His fingers were useless. He tried rubbing with the cast but the alignment was off and he couldn't move his left leg to compensate. He was anxious every time Glenn's gloved hand touched his dick which happened several times a day.

That night after Daryl used the urinal Glenn turned off the lights but instead of saying good night and leaving the room he asked quietly, "Do you want some help?"

Daryl knew what he was offering. "Is that part of the service?"

"I could lose my job just for suggesting it."

"But you don't think I'll report you?"

Glenn shrugged. "You don't seem like the type. I'm a guy – I know what it feels like. It's your choice."

"Well, I can't stay like this."

"There is an alternative," Glenn said. "Seeking help for an erection lasting longer than four hours involves draining blood from the area with a needle."

Daryl winced. "So how would the other way work?"

Glenn reached for the gloves. "You could try the advice Victorian mothers gave their daughters: Close your eyes and think of England."

Daryl smiled.

"Or think of whatever you usually think of when you do this yourself."

Daryl thought of Glenn's hands on him and wished he wasn't wearing gloves. He tried to be quiet but he was afraid it was pretty obvious that he'd enjoyed it more than he should have.

"I'm not gay," Daryl said afterwards.

"I know," Glenn said.

"It was just … it's been awhile …"

"And it felt good. I understand. Friction is friction no matter who or what is doing the rubbing."

Glenn

I did something illegal and unethical but it didn't feel wrong and I don't regret it. It needed to be done and I'm not saying that to justify it. Daryl was injured almost a week ago but other than that he's a normal healthy 36 year old male and the inevitable situation arose. Literally. So I gave my client a hand job. I maintained professional behavior by wearing disposable gloves although I would have been happy to leave them off. I also would have been happy if it lasted longer. I thought the pain meds would slow Daryl down but it was over too soon. Not quick like premature ejaculation, he just needed release. He tried not to make any noise and afterwards he told me he wasn't gay.

I've never done that before. Never even considered it. Of course I've never had a client like Daryl Dixon.

Daryl

The next afternoon Daryl woke from a nap to a familiar sound. For a moment he thought he was back at the rodeo. But the song wasn't blaring through the speakers or being performed by a musical guest. Simple guitar chords came faintly through the closed bedroom door.

"Hey," Daryl called out. The music stopped and Glenn appeared.

"Was that you playing?"

"I'm sorry I woke you," Glenn said. "It won't happen again."

"You didn't wake me, I was done sleeping. You know that's like the national anthem of rodeos?"

"Are you sick of hearing it?"

"Naw, it's a good song."

"Is it true? The lyrics, I mean."

"The good ones are always true."

"Well, you certainly broke your leg."

"But not in Santa Fe."

"Did they take your saddle in Houston?"

"Nope, I sold it in Tulsa after some bad luck. Bull riding is bareback anyway."

"Lose a wife and a girlfriend along the way?" Glenn asked.

"Never been married. And I don't have a girlfriend."

"I wondered. I thought she might have to stay on the circuit but no one has called either. What about rodeo groupies? Do you have those?"

"They're around but I haven't messed with them for years."

Glenn gave Daryl a hand again four days later. It was better than the first time and Daryl had more trouble keeping quiet. Afterwards he said half jokingly, "Maybe I am gay."

"A couple of hand jobs in these circumstances don't make a straight man gay."

"How do you know?"

"I'm gay."

Daryl felt like he already knew that or at least had suspected it. Now that it was out in the open he didn't know what to say.

"I didn't offer because I'm gay," Glenn said. "But I hope it isn't weird for you knowing that I enjoyed it more than you did."

"You didn't. Enjoy it more, I mean."

Glenn thought that over. "Is that why you keep mentioning being gay? You worried that you are?"

"I don't know."

"You've been with girls?"

"A few times when I was younger. The groupies, remember? It wasn't so good."

"What about guys? Have you ever …?"

"A couple of times. It was better than girls but I didn't like what that meant."

"I don't know what to say, Daryl. I'm sorry if I made it worse for you."

"You didn't. I never had this much time to think about it. I been hurt before but not bedridden."

"I wasn't going to bring this up until we begin rehab but if you need something else to think about you might consider what else you want to do in life. If you get hurt this badly again you could end up in a wheelchair."

"Bull riding is all I can do."

"I doubt that."

"It's all I want to do."

"But you know you can't do it forever. It's the same with all sports."

"I never made a fall-back plan."

"Why is that? If you've really never thought about the future, about getting older, maybe there's a connection to other issues."

Daryl had always dismissed such stuff as psychobabble but Glenn was smart and Daryl liked and respected him so he thought about it seriously and started to realize that his profession might have been a distraction. He rode bulls for a living. It kept him from thinking too much about anything else happening between his legs. And now that he was coming to grips with his sexual orientation, he'd gone and fallen for his caregiver. It didn't feel like a cliché, though. It felt real. Getting hurt had never been good luck before. But what if Glenn didn't feel the same? All his patients probably got attached to him. How could they help it?

Glenn

In two days Daryl will have a hand free to help himself but tonight he's hard again and this is my last chance.

"My hands are tired," I tell him. "I'll use my mouth instead."

I've been fantasizing about it since the first time I made Daryl come. Reality was even better. But the memories will have to last a long time because we'll start rehab soon and six to eight weeks after that Daryl won't need me anymore.

Daryl's voice interrupts my melancholy thoughts.

"I can use my hands in a few days. I could return the favor. If you want."

Oh god yes I want. It would be nice to come at the same time instead of me ten minutes after Daryl, alone in my room.

Eventually we talk about being together. All along we were both thinking the same thing but were afraid it wasn't mutual. I wasn't sure Daryl could accept being gay and he thought he was a patient I would leave behind for my next client. We got it sorted out.

Daryl isn't quiet in bed anymore and neither am I. He says it's the first time sex is fun and satisfying. He never thought he was good and was always afraid he'd disappoint his partner. I wish we'd met 10 years ago but better late than never. It scares me to think we might have missed each other but Daryl says as often as he got hurt, it was bound to happen.

Daryl has been thinking about his future as well as ours: "I like the rodeo life. Merle and I own the land around this house. I could raise bulls instead of ride them."

"It's a great idea. You could call it Dixon Stud," I suggest.

"No," Daryl says firmly.

"Why not? Truth in advertising for you and the bulls."

Later I ask Daryl to tell me about his brother.

"Merle's in the Army." Daryl hesitates. "Actually he's in military prison at Fort Knox. He'll get a bad conduct discharge when his sentence is up."

"What did he do?"

"Assaulted his commanding officer."

"Were there extenuating circumstances?"

"He was tweaked out at the time."

"That doesn't sound like it would help his case."

"It didn't. Merle tends to get in trouble. He's eight years older than me and he quit school to work when our folks died. He pretty much raised me. He lost his job about the time I went on the circuit so he joined the Army. I'm not making excuses for him but he's still my brother."

"Maybe you can raise bulls together when he gets out."

"You wouldn't mind him being around?" Daryl asks.

"Of course not. A better question is, will he mind me being around? I assume you haven't told him about us yet."

"Oh, fuck."

Daryl

He couldn't believe it hadn't occurred to him that he would have to tell his brother he was gay. Maybe the pain meds had made him slow.

Merle called to let Daryl know he'd be getting out in a month. There would be a discharge hearing and then he'd come home.

"I got some news for you," Daryl said.

"You healin' up okay?" Merle asked.

"Yeah, it's not that. I'm … uh … involved with my physical therapist."

Merle cackled. "Takin' care of all your needs, huh?" His laughter trailed off. "I thought Glenn was a boy's name."

"It is."

The silence stretched.

"Jesus Christ all fucking mighty," Merle said. "Are you tryin' to tell me you're a …" Merle was unable to squeeze the word out.

"Queer? Yeah."

"You did this on purpose! You timed it so I couldn't say much since the Army is kicking me out."

"If I thought that would shut you up about my sex life, I would have planned it that way. But I didn't figure your problems would stop you from giving me grief."

"Aw, shit. Is this for real?"

"Yeah. Do I still have a brother?"

"I guess. And I got a sister."

Daryl laughed. "You're taking it better than I expected. Maybe you weren't so surprised?"

Merle grunted. "Maybe not. I mighta wondered once or twice years back but nothin' happened and you never said anything so I was happy to be wrong."

"You were right after all."

"I ain't all that happy about it, though. You gonna live together?"

"Yes, but this is your home, too."

"I'm not livin' with homos. There's no walls thick enough to stifle my imagination. I'll fix up Granddaddy's hunting shack."

"It's two rooms and an outhouse."

"That's all I need."

"It's small. It's barely livable."

"It's bigger and cozier than the cell I'm currently occupying."

"Glenn will buy your half of the house. You can put in a bathroom." Daryl paused. "I been thinking what to do when I can't ride anymore. How about we go into business together breeding bulls?"

"Well, we both got a good eye for cattle. That could work. Hey, we could call it Dixon Stud."

Daryl sighed. Merle didn't know it yet but he and Glenn were going to get along fine.

There was one more thing to discuss with Glenn.

"Cowboys been comin' out of the closet since 'Brokeback Mountain' but I'm not there yet," Daryl said apologetically.

"It's all right."

"You don't mind if people think I'm straight?"

"Women won't know they don't have a chance with you and men won't know they do have a chance."

"You're the only one has a chance with me."

"See why I don't mind? Although they'll start to wonder why I'm still around. How much PT do you need when you're retired?"

"I'm not retired."

"Retired from bull riding I meant."

"I'm not retired from anything."

"You're not riding bulls anymore!"

"Yes, I am."

"Daryl, you can't. It's too big a risk." Glenn sounded anguished.

"I know I can't go much longer but I got some rides left in me."

"Is it really worth it? You haven't ridden for months."

"That's why I have to. You've heard about getting back on after a fall."

"That's a horse not a bull."

"I ride bulls not broncs."

Glenn wasn't happy about Daryl's decision but he didn't argue further. The same stubbornness that made Daryl determined to ride again also made him diligent with his exercises. He was improving daily.

* * *

The sun was high in the Texas sky when Daryl dropped into the chute at the Amarillo tri-county fair and strapped himself to the bull. Glenn was praying for eight as they pulled the gate but Daryl just hoped not to disgrace himself. He didn't. The bull was an active one. He tried sunfishing but Daryl maintained balance. He even spurred the bull a couple of times for style points. He covered the full eight seconds and, still in control, managed the dismount without injury. It was damn near perfect. The judges weren't blind and they gave him the scores to prove it.

Afterwards Daryl and Glenn stood behind the rails to one side of the arena.

"I did something," Glenn said nervously. "I hope you can forgive me."

Daryl looked nervous, too. "We'll talk later."

From the announcing booth Big Bob Hosteen's voice rang out: "Folks, that was a beautiful sight and I hope you were paying attention because I've been asked to tell y'all that it was Daryl Dixon's final ride. Daryl is a Georgia boy but we don't hold that against him. He's been a fixture and a favorite on the circuit for 18 years. Daryl wants to thank his friends and sponsors and all the fans for the best time of his life, and he's grateful to his physical therapist Glenn Rhee who got him ready for one last ride."

Bob went on to review Daryl's career.

Daryl and Glenn looked at each other.

"I didn't say that about the best time of my life," Daryl said.

"I didn't put that in about me," Glenn said.

"You handed in a retirement notice for me?" Daryl said.

"I didn't think you were smart enough to do it yourself," Glenn replied.

"Gave it to Big Bob first thing this morning," Daryl said.

"I gave him mine a couple of hours ago. I told him it was from you."

"He must have wondered what was going on."

"Sounds like he just combined them. It was nice of you to mention me."

"Big Bob is exceeding his instructions. Nobody wants to hear all them numbers."

"Yes, they do. And it's his job to give the stats. Besides, they love you."

It was true. People saw Daryl and pointed and eyes turned in his direction. If they noticed the young man near him, it was for his clothes not his ethnicity. Glenn was in jeans but they weren't boot cut and he had a cap instead of a hat, a tee instead of a western shirt and sneakers instead of boots. He had told Daryl that he couldn't carry off the cowboy look and Daryl agreed.

The crowd went wild as Hosteen finished: "We wish Daryl Dixon all the best and hope to see him at the rodeo even if we can't see him in it."

Daryl was embarrassed but tried not to show it. He smiled and lifted his hat. The applause died away and the crowd's attention turned to the next event. Daryl and Glenn walked away. No one noticed when Daryl slung his arm around Glenn's shoulders.

"It sounded good what you put in about the best time of my life but it's not true."

"I don't believe that," Glenn said.

"Best time so far, maybe. But it's about to get better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [George Strait - Amarillo By Morning](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wtVeDaZxAXo)  
>  I hadn't listened to the song for years but when I heard it recently I knew Daryl would be a great cowboy.


	6. Satisfaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Satisfaction: contentment, fulfillment.
> 
> Daryl and Glenn aren't happy until they meet each other.

Glenn

I came to Georgia for college to escape winter. I also hoped to meet someone. Unfortunately, I graduated almost a year ago and haven't found a job in my field and I haven't met anyone who measures up to Alexander the Great. Yes, I studied ancient history. Despite the feeling of failure I'm heading home to Michigan to live with my parents while I pay off student loans. I've been renting a furnished studio so I only have clothes and a few belongings. I pack my car and take off but thirty miles from Atlanta it starts jerking like it's about to come. I make it up the off ramp before the car ejaculates black smoke. It shudders to a stop near a sign advertising a service station. I make a call and pretty soon a bearded man in a tow truck arrives. He looks amused when he sees me. Is it a cliché for a Korean to drive a Hyundai?

Jim hitches up my car and we head for the small town of Benford. He checks the car and explains what needs to be done to make it run again. Jim looks honest and I don't think he's trying to cheat me because I'm aware that I didn't keep up with the scheduled maintenance. But I don't have $400. Jim says if I'm not in a hurry to be somewhere I could probably get a job at the bar and grill up the street.

There's no job waiting for me at home and a job here would put off my loss of independence.

Hershel Greene is an old gent with white hair and beard. He asks about my situation and I think he admires that I don't want to call my parents for money. He's also pleased that I worked my way through college delivering pizza so I know about the food service industry.

Hershel tells me I'll be barback and janitor. Greene's Bar & Grill has good food and libations every day except Sunday when the bar is closed. There's live music on Friday and Saturday nights. People even come out from Atlanta sometimes. Upstairs is an apartment shared by two band members, Daryl and Merle Dixon. The third member is Hershel's farm foreman Otis. Otis's wife Patricia cooks at the bar and Hershel's daughters Maggie and Beth waitress. Hershel tends bar and visits with his friends and neighbors.

A supply truck arrives and Hershel goes out back to supervise the unloading. I go to my car for my luggage. When I return, Hershel isn't there. I'm greeted instead by Alexander the Great.

Daryl

It was fucking unfair. That he should meet someone like this when he was trying to clean up his act.

_Five days earlier …_

Sunday morning Daryl woke up thankful to be alone. Evan had wanted to stay for a morning round but Daryl sent him back to Atlanta after their midnight round. Daryl had a dark brown taste in his mouth and his throat felt dry and scratchy. He swigged from a bottle beside the bed. The beer was flat but at least it was wet. He lit his first cigarette of the day and drew the smoke deep.

And choked. Daryl sat up and leaned forward, the better to cough up a lung. When it was under control he sat back and took stock of himself, his surroundings and his life. Thirty years old. He was drinking and smoking too much. His room was messy and smelled stale. He didn't need to see the rest of the place to know it was the same. He was alone except when he brought a groupie upstairs after the bar closed. They came out from Atlanta hoping to sleep with him and Daryl gave them their wish. Daryl had been out for years but gay wasn't the only thing in the closet and he was ashamed that he might be a romantic. Be nice to have somebody around longer than one night, somebody he liked talking to instead of just for sex. Actually it would be good to feel really satisfied after sex instead of like he just scratched an annoying itch.

There were times when Daryl wished his body would just calm the fuck down. He remembered hitting puberty when all the boys were in hormone overdrive and newly fascinated with their dicks. Daryl was no different except for one big thing. His male classmates were curious about their female classmates and Daryl was uneasily aware that he was thinking about the boys. Fifteen years on, the other guys were experiencing a slowdown, probably enhanced by drinking. Daryl imbibed his share of alcohol but it didn't seem to affect him sexually. But that didn't mean the rest of his body wouldn't go downhill.

Lyrics from _Baker Street_ ran through Daryl's mind. He already had some land and this was a quiet little town. All he had to do was give up the booze and the one-night stands and forget about everything. He sighed. Time to make some changes. First day of the rest of his life or some such happy horseshit.

Daryl showered, brushed his teeth and shaved, leaving his trademark scruffy chin. He dressed and looked around. Cleaning himself up was easy enough but much remained to be done about the apartment. He opened all the windows except Merle's room. That door was closed and there was no sound so he let the sleeping dog lie. He stripped his bed and picked up dirty towels and clothes. Two hours later laundry was done, trash taken out and the kitchen cleaned. Daryl started coffee.

Merle appeared, sniffing for caffeine. He glanced around. "I been waitin' for an advantage of you bein' queer to show up. Them Susie Homemaker instincts finally kicked in."

Daryl no longer had to ignore Merle's little digs, he hardly noticed them. "You get to mop floors and vacuum. Plus clean your own bedroom and bathroom."

Merle looked thoughtful. "Did Hershel say something?"

"Yeah," Daryl lied. "Told me he changed the furnace filter and wondered if we could keep up his property a little better." Daryl didn't want to admit that he was trying to get his life in order. The story was a decent one. Hershel did in fact change the furnace filter because he didn't trust the Dixon brothers to do it and although he'd never said anything about their housekeeping habits, no doubt he would appreciate some effort in that area.

Merle grumbled under his breath as he downed the coffee but presently returned to the living room with the vacuum. Daryl obliging swung his feet onto the sofa as Merle pushed past.

Daryl called Otis to tell him he and Merle would both be out in the morning. This was another reason to shape up. Merle had worked last week while Daryl felt under the weather one day and took the whole week off. Daryl was willing to admit Merle's constitution might be tougher than his own. Merle was seven years older, often half in the bag and occasionally high but he didn't shirk work.

It felt good to work up a sweat Monday morning, walking the fence lines around Hershel's property and fixing as he went. He spent the rest of the week rototilling and planting the garden and cleaning out the barn. The band practiced in an outbuilding a couple of nights each week. Daryl could tell his voice was getting back to sexy huskiness instead of rasping like the onset of emphysema.

Friday morning Daryl and Merle went downstairs to set up on the small stage in the corner where Next Confederacy played. Daryl was feeling good and glad he'd decided to stop looking for love in all the wrong places. Straight or gay, lots of folks had trouble finding the right one. Maybe that person didn't exist for Daryl. He didn't consider himself overly choosy and he didn't think what he had to offer was so special either. He wasn't even sure what he was hoping for but he thought he'd recognize it when he met it. That was the closet romantic in him. He needed to give that up.

The bell above the door jingled when it opened. Daryl looked up at a figure silhouetted against the sun in the doorway.

"Not open 'til eleven kid," Daryl called out.

"I know," the figure replied. "Hershel hired me this morning."

The door closed and now Daryl could see that the figure was a young man probably early twenties, not the teenager Daryl had thought. But he still looked like a kid in jeans, tee shirt and cap and pulling a big rolling backpack. Then the cap was removed and Daryl saw the tilted eyes and smooth black hair. He tried not to stare but failed. He did manage to keep his mouth from falling open like an idiot.

Merle sat nursing a mug of coffee. "Hershel filling some affirmative action quota by hiring a Chinaman?"

"I'm Korean."

"Whatever. It's nothing to brag about."

Glenn looked Merle over. "I suppose I can't really be proud until I'm hung over at ten in the morning."

Daryl snorted.

Merle glared at Daryl then turned it on Glenn. "I'd whup you for that if I wasn't sitting down. And hung over." He grinned with more good nature than Glenn had expected.

Glenn smiled. "I'm Glenn. You guys are in the band? Hershel told me there are three of you."

Daryl finally trusted his voice enough to speak. "I'm Daryl, guitar." He tipped his head at Merle. "My brother Merle on drums. Otis strums and plays keyboard, whatever we need."

"You're the brothers who live upstairs? Hershel said there's an extra bedroom I can have. Hope you don't mind."

"I don't," Merle replied. "'Cause you'll be sharing a bathroom with Daryl, not me."

"I think I prefer that."

"We'll see."

Glenn

What does that mean? Does Daryl mark his territory by missing the toilet bowl? He looks like he'd be more careful than Merle.

I can't get the image of Daryl as Alexander out of my mind. Daryl is wearing work pants, a shirt with the sleeves cut off and work boots but I can picture him in a tunic and sandals. Alexander had a male body slave and bedmate who served him out of love not duty. I'm not about to let any man rule me but a more mutual arrangement would suit me fine. Of course Daryl is probably straight. Not that that stopped Alexander but it was different two thousand years ago. Marriages were contracted for political reasons and bedding your wife was done to have sons and continue the dynasty. Men were for pleasure and friendship and love.

Daryl shows me to an empty bedroom upstairs and hands me a set of sheets. There's a bathroom between my bedroom and his. Merle is across the hall. Daryl tells me that living here is part of his and Merle's wages. I'm glad the brothers consider it a rooming house arrangement rather than me invading their apartment.

I go back down and meet Patricia, Maggie and Beth before the lunch rush starts. They take turns telling me what needs to be done and showing me where things are. It's not hard and it's not so busy that I can't keep up. Hershel nods approvingly.

It's busier that night. The crowd is wild for Patricia's chicken wings. The pace slows enough that I can watch Next Confederacy perform.

Merle is crude, rude and lewd but what's a band without some bad behavior? Otis is the serious musician in the group. He's very good on acoustic guitar and plays and sings a couple of songs on his own but with the group he plays keyboard, probably because Daryl is better as a front man. He's got the look and he plays and sings with the careless ease of someone with natural talent. Daryl struck me as the quiet type but he knows how to work the stage and the crowd. It's not forced or fake either; he looks like he's enjoying himself.

The band invites Hershel's younger daughter Beth up for a song. She has a sweet voice. Her sister Maggie tells me she gets a spot each night.

Saturday morning Daryl says I can ride along if I want to see Hershel's farm. He tells me it's been in the Greene family for generations. It's a small operation and Hershel employs the band members for whatever work is needed. He keeps a large garden for fresh produce for the bar and grill. Chores are minimal on Friday and Saturday because the band plays those nights, and also on Sunday because Hershel takes the Sabbath seriously so the bar is closed. Otis, Merle and Daryl work Monday through Thursday and take turns the other three days which is mostly just seeing to the horses and chickens.

Saturday evening starts differently from Friday. A blonde woman joins Daryl and the crowd roars when they see her. So Daryl has a girlfriend. They start singing about sex. I hate her.

Daryl: Rub it hard,  
Blondie: Rub it slow,  
Both: Get right down to the core.

Blondie: A little spicy,  
Daryl: A little sweet,  
Both: Hot and tender, what a treat.

Daryl: Juices dripping,  
Blondie: Lick my lips,  
Both shouting: 'Cause Hershel knows how to fix ribs!

The crowd roars again. Maggie tells me they sing this little ditty every time Hershel serves ribs.

"Daryl's girlfriend is pretty." I force myself to say it pleasantly and nonchalantly.

"Andrea isn't his girlfriend, she's Daddy's lawyer from Atlanta. You'll find out eventually and it's not a secret anyway so I might as well mention that Daryl is gay."

"Oh. So am I. What a coincidence."

"Uh huh." Maggie gives me a look and a small smile before walking away.

Andrea isn't merely pretty; she's beautiful. Probably a nice person, too.

I like Daryl more than I should. He's friendly enough but besides showing me Hershel's farm, we don't have much reason to hang out. Living together is like staying in the same hotel. There's a kitchen in the apartment but we mostly eat in the bar. I've seen Daryl watching me but so does everyone else. I'm the only Asian in Benford.

Daryl

Sunday morning Daryl reviewed the past week. He'd made it through cold turkey – no smokes and no alcohol, not even a beer. It had been fairly easy because of the short term of denial. He figured he could have a couple of beers a week from now on. He'd planned on a cigarette with the beer but decided to give them up. Daryl had seen Glenn's nose wrinkle a little when Merle smoked. Daryl told himself he couldn't help watching the kid because he was so different from anybody he'd ever known. He was sharp, too, and funny. Daryl liked listening to him as much as looking at him.

Daryl opened the bathroom door and caught sight of a lean naked body just stepping into the tub before Glenn started to slide the shower door closed. He stopped when he saw Daryl.

"Sorry," Daryl mumbled. "I'll use Merle's."

"I don't mind if you don't," Glenn said cheerfully. "Think of it as a locker room." He closed the door and turned on the water.

Daryl walked over to the stool opposite the tub. He pulled his half-hard dick out of his boxers and took aim. The sink was next to the stool. Daryl glanced in the mirror above it and his mouth went dry. He couldn't see anything clearly but maybe that was better because the outline of Glenn's body was enough to fuel Daryl's suddenly active imagination. Glenn was in profile, arms moving, probably soaping up. Daryl unknowingly licked his lips at the thought of bubbles spreading across smooth skin. In the mirror, just below Glenn's waist his dick jutted up. Or was that a patch of steam on the shower door that happened to be in an interesting shape and location?

Glenn turned his front to the shower door and Daryl dropped his eyes so he wouldn't be caught looking but then he snuck a peek upwards for a tantalizing glimpse of pubic bush. Or maybe it was just a shadow in a strategic place? Glenn turned around and Daryl saw his back tapering to narrow hips and an ass that made his hands clench.

Which brought him back to the business at hand. Or in hand. He was taking too long. Daryl hadn't actually been peeing the whole time. His dick had dried up without him noticing being as how he was mesmerized by the view. He tucked himself away and went back to bed. Instead of softening, he was harder than he'd been before emptying his bladder. Daryl hadn't come since Evan a week ago. He hadn't felt like solo activity and he had no desire to bring anybody upstairs since the one he wanted was already living there.

* * *

Maggie got home from the bar as practice was breaking up Monday night. She came over to Daryl who had taken up Otis's acoustic guitar and was working on some chords.

"You ignored a couple of opportunities last weekend," she said.

Daryl didn't look up. "Wasn't interested."

"Got your eye on someone local?"

Daryl flushed but didn't stop strumming.

Maggie persisted. "Someone new and different maybe?"

Daryl looked up then. Maggie leaned forward and said quietly, "Glenn is gay."

Something flared in Daryl's eyes. "How d'you know?"

"He told me Saturday night. After I told him you were gay."

Daryl frowned. He was out but he didn't need folks telling everybody they met.

Maggie smiled. "He thought you and Andrea were together. He didn't seem to like the idea so I set him straight. Straight in a manner of speaking, that is."

Daryl looked happier. Maggie turned to go.

"Thanks," Daryl called after her. She waved at him over her shoulder.

Glenn was reading in the living room when the Dixons got home. Merle went on to bed but Daryl sat down.

"Maggie told me about you tonight. Said she told you about me Saturday night."

Glenn laid his book aside. "So we have something in common."

"That means you knew Sunday morning. Did you put on a show in the bathroom?"

"The shower door is frosted and it was … steamy in there. How much could you see anyway?"

"I got a good imagination."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"It's mostly girls are called cockteasers but it's not gender specific."

"Cockteaser implies there's no follow through. I'd be glad to prove I wasn't teasing."

Glenn

I undress first and Daryl looks me over leisurely. "My imagination wasn't so good after all. This is better. You're better."

Daryl strips quickly and efficiently. My eyes widen at his size. "My imagination didn't … uh, stretch this far. I'm not sure my ass will either."

"I ain't that big," Daryl mutters. "But we don't have to do anal."

"I don't rule it out," I tell him. I hope I didn't make him self-conscious. He's not huge, just bigger than the few partners I've had. I put my hand on his erection. Daryl thrusts and I feel the vein on the underside pulse against my palm.

"Harder," Daryl says. "Come on, kid. Touch me like you mean it."

I grip him firmly. Most men like a lot of pressure. Me, too.

We shower, together this time. After the shower we keep going in Daryl's bed. There's pleasure and friendship. Maybe there could be love eventually. Anyway, it's not just mindless fucking. Except the last minute each time. By that point it's pretty much mindless fucking.

Afterward I ask, "What do you know about Alexander the Great?"

"When Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept, for there were no more worlds to conquer."

"That's a corrupted version of the quote but I'm impressed. I didn't really expect you to be interested in ancient history. Where did you learn that?"

"The bad guy said it in Die Hard."

"Ah, yes. Alan Rickman as Hans Gruber."

"What's the quote supposed to be?"

"Plutarch wrote that Alexander wept when he heard there were infinite worlds in the universe because he had not yet conquered even one."

"I like the movie version better."

"Everyone does."

"Why are you so interested in Alexander the Great?"

"My degree is in history and he's a fascinating figure. You remind me of him."

"How?"

"It's written that Alexander had one dark eye and one blue."

"Mine are both blue."

"Well, I like blue. Alexander is also described as fair haired with ruddy skin."

"My hair is brown."

"But it's light on top. And your skin is a little pink."

"My hair bleaches in the sun. And I'll tan up pretty soon."

"Close enough." I run my hands across Daryl's shoulders and down his arms. "I imagine Alexander's shoulders were wide and his arms strong from breaking horses. And he had a big sword."

Daryl chuckles before seeing that I'm serious. "Oh, you meant a real sword."

I laugh and slide a hand between Daryl's legs. "Yes, I'm talking about swinging a heavy battle sword. I have no information about the size of Alexander's 'personal' weapon. You can't trust statues of that time to be anatomically correct."

"So you got a thing for old Alex. You gonna forget and start calling me Alexan-Daryl?"

"It's just the opposite. You make me forget Alexander."

* * *

Daryl and I grow closer over the next few weeks. One evening he's working on a song. He's got an acoustic guitar in the apartment that he uses for composing.

"Mending my ways to be worthy of you,  
Spending my days dreaming of you,  
Bending the rules to make you mine."

"That's coming along," I tell him.

Daryl nods. "Needs some work yet. I got more verses in mind."

Merle has a complaint for me: "You're breakin' up the band, Yoko. Daryl's in love. He's writin' ballads instead of something I can pound the skins to."

I don't mind Merle. He just said Daryl is in love with me.

* * *

As Daryl and I settle down together, something stirs up in the rest of the world. Overnight a plague sweeps the planet. The dead come back to life but not in a good way. Loved ones aren't returned whole again by some miracle. They're flesh-eating monsters that don't stop even as they rot. Benford quickly becomes a ghost town as people retreat to their farms. Merle, Daryl and I are going to hole up with Hershel.

Our last morning in town I pack everything useful we can take from the bar. Daryl and Merle are scouring the deserted town for anything worthwhile that remains. I leave the back door open to make it easier to load the Dixon truck parked there, which is a mistake because two walkers stagger in and come after me. I don't recognize them; they're probably refugees fleeing from Atlanta. In the past few days we've learned that destroying the brain stops them. I have my baseball bat with me because the quieter your weapon the better since sound attracts their attention.

I don't know yet that in the weeks ahead I'll become very good at killing but it's new to me now and I get cornered by the second walker while taking out the first. I'm behind the bar where there's not much room to swing when the second walker reaches for me. I can't let him bite me or even touch me because we're not sure how it spreads. I panic and stumble over the walker whose head I bashed to pulp.

Suddenly Daryl is there with his electric guitar. He sweeps the walker's legs from under him and the walker falls on his side. Before he can rise again, Daryl breaks the guitar across his knee and drives the jagged end of the broken neck deep into the walker's ear.

The new Guitar Hero.

Daryl

That night, in their bedroom at the farm, Glenn told Daryl he was sorry about the guitar.

"I can get another guitar. Can't get another you."

"At least you've still got the acoustic."

Daryl nodded. "Always wanted to make some noise when I played but it seems likely the world's gonna be unplugged soon. Even if we have power, an electric guitar would bring more of them things. Besides, I'm thinking you might be my favorite instrument to play."

"How does that work?"

Daryl pulled Glenn's shirt off. "First I tighten the strings." He tweaked Glenn's nipples with a little twist on the fine line of pain and pleasure.

Glenn moaned.

"Pluck each string to make sure it's in tune." Daryl's thumbs lightly scraped each of Glenn's ribs.

"Strum a little to get the feel." His knuckles rubbed over Glenn's taut abdomen, making the muscles flutter.

"Firm grip." His hand circled Glenn's cock. Glenn whimpered.

"Settle against my hips." Daryl turned Glenn around and pulled his back to Daryl's chest.

"Get a rhythm going." He rested his chin on Glenn's shoulder so he could look down at his hand on Glenn's cock, alternating squeezes and strokes.

"Big finish," Daryl said as Glenn exploded in his hand.

Glenn

Daryl is strumming idly on the acoustic guitar when I walk into our room.

"The only peace I want,  
The only peace I need,  
The only peace I'll ever know."

"Is that about me?" Glenn asked. "It better be about me."

"Yep."

"I really do that? Give you peace?"

"There's two ways to spell it."

"P-I-E-C-E instead of P-E-A-C-E?" I laugh. "Either one works for me."

"They both work for me, too."

* * *

It's safe and quiet on the farm but we know it won't last. Trouble will find us eventually. But Daryl and I are together and we can conquer this world of walkers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rib ditty and the two songs Daryl is working on are mine, no copyright infringement.
> 
> [Want to see GobsmackApplejack's photomanip of Daryl and Andrea singing the rib ditty?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3148127/chapters/7074065)


	7. Relations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relations: family ties or sexual intercourse.
> 
> Daryl and Glenn experience both types of relations.

Daryl

Daryl had never won anything until this football ticket in a radio show giveaway. Bulldogs vs Wolverines at Michigan Stadium and the ticket included a seat on a chartered flight to Ann Arbor. Daryl was responsible for room and board but he could afford it, he didn't live a high maintenance lifestyle. He was gay in rural Georgia and even with attitudes slowly changing, he kept a low profile.

Daryl had been to the five states bordering Georgia but he'd never traveled so far outstate. Canada was just north of Michigan. He'd like to go hunting there someday. Preferably in the summer. Michigan was colder than he expected as he entered 'The Big House' with thousands of other football fans. It was November but the report had been for mild weather and 40 degrees. Instead the sky was overcast and it was freezing. As in 30 degrees which was only two degrees below freezing but Daryl was used to being hot instead of cold. Why weren't they playing at Sanford Stadium in Athens? Wouldn't Michigan fans have liked to come south for some sun? But he didn't really mind, this was an adventure.

Climbing the stands, Daryl spotted his seat next to a kid sitting at the end of the row. As he approached, Daryl saw that he was a young Asian man in his 20s instead of a teenager. Goodlooking with a nice smile. Black hair barely visible at the edges of a stocking hat. He was bundled up. Everything was fleece and down and lined for warmth. Daryl felt underdressed.

Glenn

The stadium is filling up fast but the seat next to me is still empty. I hope I get someone decent to sit beside for three hours. A man comes up the stairs, slowing as he reaches my row. I hope he's as nice as he looks because that's more than decent. Blue eyes, brown hair, skin a little weathered.

"I'm Glenn Rhee," I say, trying not to sound too cheerful. It can put people off sometimes.

"Daryl Dixon."

His slight drawl sends a shiver down my back. Daryl shivers, too, but I'm pretty sure it's from the cold, not me. He's wearing work pants, work boots, and a jacket that doesn't look heavy enough for today. I realize I'm tired of seeing guys in suits or khakis, polos and loafers.

"You're from Georgia?" I ask.

"Yeah. Didn't think it was going to be this cold."

"You believed the forecast, right? I suspected a cold front would move through. It might even snow."

"Snow?"

"Cold, wet white stuff."

"I've seen snow. But not for three years."

"Don't worry, I came prepared and you can share." I pull the blanket from between my feet.

Daryl licks his lips, probably in anticipation of its warmth. I spread it across our laps. This is cozy. Is it too much to hope that Daryl is gay? It's not like I can tell who's gay on sight but I have some experience and in our brief interaction I think it's possible.

Daryl

The blanket was big enough to pull around his shoulders but Daryl wasn't such a wimp as to do that yet. Better save it in case the temp kept dropping.

The kid looked around furtively before taking out a thermos. "Not supposed to bring in a thermos but I decided to risk it."

Daryl's mouth watered at the thought of hot coffee.

"It's cocoa not coffee," Glenn said as if reading his thoughts.

Daryl had no objection to hot, sweet and chocolaty.

Glenn reached into his pocket and came up with a baggy of miniature marshmallows. Daryl was amazed. This kid must have been a boy scout. He had everything covered.

"Too gay?" Glenn asked.

"Uh ... what?" Daryl was jolted by the casual question.

"I can say that because I am. Gay, I mean."

Daryl had never met anybody so open about their sexuality on short acquaintance. His few partners had been as careful as he was. But he liked the look of this kid and the easy way about him. Maybe it was time to speak up.

Daryl cleared his throat and swallowed. "So am I." It came out a little gruffly so he added, "I'll take some marshmallows." Hot and creamy. Daryl wasn't sure he was thinking entirely about cocoa anymore.

"Really. You're gay, too? What a coincidence."

Glenn looked very interested. It made Daryl feel better about his own thoughts. And it was flattering as hell. He hadn't dreamed of sitting beside a piece of eye candy like Glenn Rhee and he sure hadn't expected a kid like this to be attracted to him.

Glenn

Okay, we're both gay and interested. We're hooking up later! It's been awhile since I got laid and even longer since I met someone as appealing as Daryl. I can't wait to be a-peeling his clothes off. How do I make this happen? I brought up being gay so maybe I should see if Daryl follows up.

Daryl

It was a good game but his attention wasn't always on the gridiron below. They didn't talk a lot after that initial exchange but the silence was comfortable, even companionable. Daryl wondered if Glenn was considering what the next step might be in this chance encounter. It was too bad Michigan was so far from Georgia. He wouldn't mind getting to know this kid better.

Michigan won and the stadium began emptying. This would be over soon unless one of them continued it and Daryl figured it was his turn.

"Can I buy you dinner? I owe you for the blanket and hot chocolate."

"You don't owe me," Glenn said, and Daryl's heart dropped because this kid wasn't feeling the same after all.

"But I am hungry." Glenn added, and Daryl's heart lifted again.

"Pick the place," Daryl said.

"Do you like Chinese?"

"Is that a pun?" Daryl couldn't believe he was flirting like this. It had never felt natural before.

Glenn laughed. "I'm Korean."

Daryl flushed. "Sorry, I didn't mean ..."

"I know. I'm just messing with you. But I do like Chinese food more than Korean."

Glenn had a car. He drove to a local Chinese restaurant that he said was better than the chain places.

"Do you have a place to stay?" Glenn asked after they ordered.

This kid didn't waste time, Daryl thought, but his own mind was moving in that direction. "I'll get a room, maybe near the airport to be close for the flight back tomorrow."

Glenn

I'm having second thoughts about sleeping with Daryl. I want to, but as the afternoon passed I started thinking this could be serious. I really like him. Maybe we shouldn't jump in bed right away?

While we're waiting for our food Daryl visits the bathroom and I pull out my phone.

When he comes back I tell him, "The city is filled up on game days. It might not be easy to find a room. I texted my mom that a friend from Georgia came to the game and she invited you to stay tonight."

"I can't do that. Your folks don't know me. And how do you have a friend from Georgia?"

"I live in Atlanta."

Daryl looks surprised. "All this time I thought you lived here."

"Born and raised, but I went to Georgia for college. Are you sorry I don't live in Michigan?"

"Why would I be sorry?"

"Well, if you didn't expect me to be around after this weekend."

"I was thinking it would be hard to see you again. But I'm only 20 miles from Atlanta."

I smile. "So let's eat and go home."

Daryl looks uneasy. "Your folks are going to think we've been together for awhile. Unless you bring guys home a lot."

"Oh god, they will. I've never brought anyone home for the night. We don't know the kind of stuff we should know about each other."

"This is a bad idea. I better get a room."

"No, I want you to stay. And they're expecting you." I pause because it's not just about what I want. "But I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"Won't bother me but I don't want you to be embarrassed if they find out we just met."

"We only need to know a few things about each other. Maybe some family stuff. I have two older sisters, 28 and 32. They're both married."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-four. My birthday was May 18th. How about you?"

"I was 30 last February. The 26th.

"This is fun. Like a speed date. Hey, you should know why me and my sisters are all four years apart. Because my parents wanted only one child in college at a time. They planned it."

"That's a good idea."

"Don't tell them that, it will encourage them."

"I'm just saying."

"Okay, I agree that's not so odd. But they can be a little kooky. Their names are Gene and Lois. My oldest sister is Genie, named and spelled after Pop. The younger one is Lisa. I guess that's as close as they could get to Lois. When I came along they used the G, L, E and N. I don't know why they added another N."

"I'm surprised they didn't name you Louis."

"It's my middle name. I'm not joking."

Daryl smiles. "They sound okay."

"They're all right, I guess. But they talk loud when they get excited and they're very excitable. They emigrated after they were married so all of us kids were born here."

"What do they do?"

"Pop teaches science at the middle school. He's actually very popular with students and faculty. He makes class interesting so the kids like him. He's retiring next year when he turns 62."

"What about your mom?"

"She owns a nail salon. A cliche for a Korean, right? But she loves it and it does very well."

"Your folks mind that their only son is gay?"

"Not really. And the Rhee name may carry on anyway. Genie has two sons. She and her husband are going to ask the younger one to change his name to Rhee when he's older."

"What about Lisa?"

"She has a boy and a girl. Naturally her husband wants his son to keep his name. It's lucky that Genie has two boys."

"So you're Uncle Glenn."

"Yep. What about you?"

"One brother, Merle, five years older. Never married, no kids. Both our folks passed years ago."

I can tell there's more to that story. Daryl's face changes – eyes and expression - when he mentions his parents. But now isn't the time to pry so I say, "I'm sorry about that. But your family is easy to remember. What do you do?"

"Work at the local hardware. Merle and I live in Benford. It's a little town between Atlanta and Athens. The hardware is more of a general store. There's a sporting goods section. I run that. I'm not getting rich but it's steady. Merle works at a factory. Pays better but it shuts down every few years and everybody is laid off until somebody takes over and starts it up again."

"Sporting goods. So you like more than football?"

"Not games so much. Some fishing and camping but hunting mostly. I use a crossbow."

"Do you wear camo and put dirt on your face?"

"Yeah, but it's grease to hide the human scent."

"Can I come with you sometime?"

"Sure."

"I should mention that I don't like the idea of killing animals. I understand about hunting to control population. I'm just not good around blood."

"Why would you want to go hunting?"

"I'd like to see you in your natural habitat."

Daryl looks pleased. He asks what I do.

"I work in a hospital."

"You said you don't like blood."

"I'm a psychologist in the mental health clinic. Nice clean therapy."

"What if somebody slits their wrist in front of you?"

"I'd be pretty bad at my job if that happened. But the clinic is right next to the ER so that's helpful. And in an emergency I could wrap an arm up. I just don't want to deal with it on a regular basis."

Daryl

Daryl wasn't surprised at Glenn's profession. He had seemed like a smart kid from the start. And he didn't seem to care that Daryl was blue collar.

They decided they had shared enough info to pass an inquisition from Glenn's parents. The Rhees lived in a modest house in a nice neighborhood. Sitting in the living room after introductions, it was obvious that Gene and Lois were pleased that their son had brought someone to meet them. They didn't seem disappointed that Daryl wasn't Korean. But Gene's first question made it clear they had skipped an important part of their story.

"So, how you two meet?"

Glenn's eyes held panic when he looked at Daryl. Daryl decided to stick to the truth as much as possible. "At a football game."

Glenn smiled with relief. "Like today."

Lois looked delighted. "Is this a little anniversary?"

"Yes, Mom," Glenn replied. "Two months."

"Romantic!" Lois shrieked.

"Two months and you not tell us you met somebody!" Gene yelled. He turned to Lois. "Did he tell you and you not tell me?" he asked accusingly.

"He never said a word!" Lois yelled back.

Daryl now understood Glenn's warning about loud and excitable.

They calmed down and asked about Daryl. He repeated what he'd told Glenn an hour before. Glenn added a couple of things before Daryl said them, building the impression that they'd known each other for two months. Daryl was beginning to feel like he really had known Glenn for months. He asked Gene about teaching and Lois about her nail salon.

"Nailed By Lois." Gene said. "Oh, wait, that's me!"

"Insult!" Lois screeched at Gene. "It's Nails By Lois," she said to Daryl who was trying to keep a straight face.

Lois showed them to Glenn's boyhood bedroom. Glenn apologized after the door closed. "I didn't know she'd put us in the same room. I didn't think she'd want us sleeping together."

"I'll take the floor," Daryl offered.

"Don't be ridiculous, it's a double bed. There's plenty of room. Besides, we were going to stay together if you got a room, weren't we?"

"Yeah, but this is your house."

"We could just sleep and wait to see what happens back in Georgia."

Daryl agreed that they should slow the roll.

Glenn

It sounded reasonable when we were standing up and fully dressed. But now we're in bed, Daryl in boxers, me in briefs. We didn't watch each other undress but I couldn't help sneaking peeks and I bet Daryl did, too. I hope he liked what he saw as much as I did.

I've got some muscle but I'm leaner than Daryl. His shoulders are wide and his arms are perfect. He's my ideal image of a man. The guys I've been with before seem like boys now, not young exactly, but not mature like Daryl. Why did I suggest waiting?

Daryl's breathing is quiet and even so I whisper in case he fell asleep. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah."

"Remind me what we're saving ourselves for."

"Privacy. Your folks are close."

"Not really. They're downstairs at the other end of the house."

"We could fool around, see how it goes."

When I remember that later, the line 'Fooled Around and Fell In Love' runs through my mind. My parents music is from the '60s, '70s and '80s. I grew up hearing those songs.

I spread my hand across Daryl's chest and his hand cups my ass. My hand moves down his belly, his reaches between my legs. I kiss up his neck to his mouth, he kisses along my jaw to my ear. My fingers circle his cock and he thrusts into my palm. I can feel how big he is, not longer than average, but thicker. His hand is warm and a little rough on my cock. I love the friction. We're not doing anything out of the ordinary but it feels better than I ever remember, especially the first time with someone. Daryl looks as if he likes it as much as I do.

Daryl

Glenn was so different from anyone else Daryl had been with that he wondered if the sex would be kinky. Not that Daryl was unimaginative but sex itself was so satisfying it didn't need a lot of dressing up. Maybe if you were with someone for awhile you felt like exploring more. Daryl hadn't thought long-term before. It had always been a few weeks, a few fucks.

They jerked each other off first. The second time was oral. Daryl found out Glenn tasted as good as he looked, both mouth and dick. And Glenn looked and sounded happy with all Daryl did to him.

The next morning they had just finished showering and dressing when Lois' voice echoed down the hall.

"Boys! Breakfast!"

Gene was already digging in as they sat down. "Bacon, eggs, waffles. I love big Sunday breakfast!"

"You love cholesterol?" Lois asked. "Take your pill!"

Daryl liked a big breakfast, too, but Glenn had toast and fruit.

"That's all you eat?" Gene asked.

"Too thin!" Lois added.

"I'm perfectly healthy," Glenn said. "I'm too young to get fat." He looked pointedly at his parents. They weren't fat but each had a few more pounds than when he was growing up.

"Ah." Lois nodded wisely. "Daryl not a chubby chaser."

Gene turned on Daryl. "You not love our son if he put on a pound? You weigh him every week?"

"I don't care what he eats or how much. I might go bald. I hope he won't mind if that happens."

"Do all gays worry about weight and hair?" Gene asked.

"Shallow!" Lois shouted. "Worry about being happy instead!"

Glenn broke in. "We're not obsessed with weight and hair and we're not worried about being happy. You started all this. Settle down."

Lois turned to Daryl and changed the subject. "Bring your brother to Michigan. I introduce him to a nice girl."

"I'm not sure a nice girl should be introduced to Merle."

Lois waved this away. "I just say it, she not that nice. Very forward."

"Mom, a long distance relationship isn't easy."

"Maybe she move to Georgia. You did!"

"Hey, you talking about Josie?" Gene asked. "No good for Daryl's brother! She seeing somebody."

"She broke up with Lyle last week!"

"She going with Richie now!"

"You're right. Loose woman no good for Merle!"

Daryl thought a loose woman was fine for Merle. Always been his type so far.

Glenn

I drive Daryl to the airport for his return flight on the chartered plane. I'm staying two more days so I won't fly out until Tuesday.

We exchange cell numbers and I tell Daryl I'll call him tonight to make sure he got home safe.

That evening Daryl doesn't say anything about calling when I get home and he doesn't call while I'm in Michigan. I shouldn't expect too much. I don't think he's the type to call or text all the time. I'm not either, I'm not that needy. But we had an intense day and night together and I'm excited about this relationship and nervous that it might not be as important to Daryl after all.

* * *

Daryl doesn't have to call when I get home because he meets my flight at ATL! I was so glad to see him after two long days.

"I was afraid my parents scared you off. They can be hard to take."

"They're kind of fun. Mine weren't. Mama and Daddy pretty much drank themselves to early graves. I hope that doesn't scare you off."

"It doesn't. I feel bad for you, though." And ashamed of myself for being embarrassed by Mom and Pop. I've heard about real dysfunction in my work at the clinic and I'm usually more grateful for my happy, loving childhood.

"You don't have to apologize for your folks. I can see they might be annoying at times but I liked them. Mine have been gone for 10 years, but I grew up with them." Daryl hesitates. "That's why I didn't call. I got to wondering if I should spare you my 'issues' as you therapists call it."

"You seem pretty well adjusted to me. Besides, we can choose our friends but not our relations. What changed your mind about seeing me?"

"I decided a professional like you could handle it. And our 'relations' in bed were so good, I didn't want to pass it up."

"Yeah, that was worth a lot of family issues."

"You haven't met my brother yet."

* * *

I meet Merle two weeks later on Thanksgiving. He's not so bad.

My parents call to tell me my sisters are going to their in-laws for Christmas so Mom and Pop are coming to Georgia.

Daryl thinks Merle can hold his own against Gene and Lois. I disagree but it should be entertaining to sit back and enjoy the show.

                                                                                    

 


	8. Gravitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gravitation: mutual force of attraction, movement or tendency toward someone.
> 
> Daryl is too old, Glenn is too young.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glenn is written in first person and Daryl in second person.

Glenn

"Where did everybody go?"

I'm standing in a clearing in the woods. It was filled with other members of the group a few minutes ago when I stepped away to relieve pressure on my bladder. I got distracted trying to pee my name in the dirt but I wasn't gone that long. There's a trail so I should catch up quickly. A herd of humans can't move that fast. Plus the leader takes a head count every so often so they'll know I'm missing soon.

I head down the trail, enjoying the scenery. November is still pretty. I came to Georgia this fall from Michigan. I'd only been to Athens once before on my college visit. I love it here and wanted to learn more about Georgia so I signed up for a nature hike.

There's a fork in the trail. Uh oh. No one is in sight yet and it's very quiet. I have the guide's cell number which would be useful if I also had a signal. The trees must be blocking it. I'm getting nervous because the afternoon light is fading and suddenly I wonder if I got turned around and went the wrong way. The trail isn't as wide as I remember and it's not well marked. More of a path really.

A deer steps in front of me. I was standing still and it looks as startled as me. I drop my phone. As I reach down for it the deer moves and something zings over my head and thunks into the tree behind me. My head is bare. I turn to see my cap pinned to the tree by an arrow. The deer bounds away and a man's voice says, "Son of a bitch!" He sounds disgusted. Good thing I took a bathroom break before or I would have wet myself.

I'm alone in the woods with a hunter who probably blames me for losing his prey. An old movie called 'Deliverance' unreels in my mind, specifically the rape scene. I'm gay, I've had anal sex and enjoyed it, but it was my choice. I don't want to be butt-fucked by some backwoods hillbilly.

A man steps onto the path. There's enough light to see him and rethink the butt-fucking. Just kidding. But he looks very attractive in a dirty, sweaty, manly way. He's wearing work pants tucked into work boots and a leather vest over a shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His shoulders are broad. His biceps flex when he slings the crossbow over his shoulder. His brown hair is shaggy. His eyes glint blue and his teeth are white. At least he has teeth. Is he baring them at me or smiling?

He stalks over and pulls the arrow out of the tree.

"Robin Hood?" I ask. "Or William Tell?"

A muffled snort. He looks at the inside of my cap then hands it to me. "Sorry about your apple, kid."

He has a sense of humor!

He bends my head forward and ruffles my hair. "No blood on your cap or head. You all right?"

"I'm fine." For some reason I'm no longer shaken by almost getting an arrow in my brain.

"This is a hunting preserve. What are you doing here?"

"I got separated from my nature hike. Then I got lost. And I couldn't get a signal to call."

The man nods. "Congratulations on finding the one section along here that's not fenced. They must have missed you by now. Search is probably underway. Let's get clear of the woods so you can call."

We leave the path and he leads me over rough ground. It never occurred to me not to trust him. After ten minutes we exit the woods into a meadow. It's a lot lighter in the open and I can see that this is a real man. He's older than me, maybe quite a bit, but it's hard to guess his age because his skin shows some weathering.

He says, "Your folks must be worried."

"They don't know I'm missing. I'm not a kid, I came from Michigan to the university here."

"That so?" He looks me over leisurely. "Better try your call again."

I put the call on speaker when it goes through. "Carol, it's Glenn Rhee."

"Thank God." Her voice sounds frantic. "Are you okay?"

"Sure."

"I'm so sorry. I did a head count at the next stop and you were gone."

"My fault. I had to, you know, take a break. A hunter found me."

"Where are you?"

"I don't know exactly." My savior makes a 'Gimme' gesture with his fingers. I hand him my phone.

"Daryl Dixon. You back at the trail head?"

"Yes. We backtracked but Glenn wasn't on the trail."

"Search and rescue started yet?"

"They're getting organized now."

"Call 'em off. I'll have him there in 20 minutes."

"Thank you, thank you! Is he really all right?"

Daryl's eyes move over me again. "He's perfect ... ly fine."

Did I imagine that pause?

We cross the meadow. Daryl doesn't lead this time, he walks beside me. We go through more trees and come out near a blacktop road I recognize as part of the park property. A tall fence separates us from the road.

"Up and over," Daryl says.

I grab the top rail to pull myself up. I'm strong enough to make it on my own but Daryl puts his hands on my ass and gives me a boost. When I'm on the other side he chins himself up easily and drops beside me.

As we head for the lodge I tell him, "I owe you double. For finding me and for scaring off your deer."

He looks at me sideways. "How you planning to pay the debt?"

"I was thinking blow you and bottom."

Daryl stops dead and stares at me. "Jesus Christ."

The look on his face makes me think I misread the situation. "Or a gift card," I say weakly.

Daryl chuckles. "Appreciate the offer, kid, but I'm twice your age."

"Thirty-six?" I ask skeptically.

"Thirty-four."

"Well, I'm 18 not 17."

"Big gap, though. And I never went to college."

"I bet you know things I won't learn in class."

Daryl looks at me appraisingly. "Let me see your driver's license and student ID."

I hand them over. Daryl studies them and hands them back. "Maybe we could get together sometime."

"You thought I was lying about my age? I don't look that young."

"Just makin' sure you're legal. I don't need that kind of trouble in my life."

We exchange numbers and continue to the lodge. Carol runs to meet us. The park superintendent is there, too. They both thank Daryl. So do I.

"Good luck, kid."

It sounds like a final goodbye except Daryl winks at me as he turns away.

I have to get somewhere private because I need to come so bad.

Daryl

It may be a bad idea to get involved with somebody so much younger but you're going to do it anyway because you want to fuck 18 year old Glenn Rhee. You want to stick your dick down his throat and up his ass and have him do the same to you even though you usually top.

You'll make an exception for this Chinese kid.

You wait two days before calling, hoping he calls first, but you don't hold off so long that he forgets you. Of course it won't last. He's halfway across the country from home, maybe for the first time. A young, queer kid eager for experience. Probably tired of fumbling with guys his age. You'll show him some stuff that will make him a valuable partner to whoever he takes up with after you.

This sudden attraction took you by surprise. You've always hooked up in your age range by choice, thinking you have something in common, but you're past 30 and can't resist fucking a young man like Glenn for the last time.

So you call and arrange to pick him up outside his dorm. You roll up and he jumps into the truck.

Glenn

"Do you have a place we can go? Because I can't take you into the dorm."

"Whoa. Thought I'd buy you dinner first."

"Really?"

"I ain't devoid of the social niceties. You hungry?"

"Uh ... sure."

Daryl smiles. "Not for food, huh? Can you last long enough to eat?"

"I guess so. I didn't think you'd want it to be like a date."

"Romance is still alive in redneck Georgia."

I can't help laughing. I know he has a sense of humor but I didn't expect Daryl to be so much fun. There's further evidence when he drives to the Butt Hutt, a popular barbecue spot in Athens.

"Is this why you want dinner? So you could take me to a place with a name like this?"

"It was my brother's idea, but I should have thought of it myself."

"Is your brother gay, too?"

"Nope, but Merle takes an interest in my sex life."

"What about your parents?"

"Mama and Daddy bought the farm six years ago. Their insurance money bought it, that is, and Merle and I farm it."

"I'm sorry. They must have been pretty young."

"Mid-fifties but they were drinkers so their livers were about 80. They had a good run. What about your family back in Michigan?"

I tell him about Mom and Pop and my sisters. "I came out last year. They totally support me but I wanted to get away for a while. They would have been setting me up with every gay they know, and I'd rather find my own partner."

"They'd probably pick somebody more age appropriate than me."

"You're not old, Daryl, and I bet I can prove it."

Daryl checks us into a motel. Not a sleazy dump but not too expensive either, just a nice clean place. I've never been to a motel with a man. I've had two partners. My female date after junior prom last year was the first. I suspected I was gay before that but felt like I should give girls a chance. They're not for me. I had a boyfriend my age after that. It wasn't serious but it was enough to make me sure of my preference. I haven't met anyone I like at university yet which is why I was so ready when Daryl came along. I'm even more ready now and Daryl knows it.

"I remember being 18. Let me do something so you'll last longer the second time."

He unzips my jeans and pulls them down. I step out of them and he picks me up and drops me on the bed. He doesn't undress, just lays down and slides his hand down my briefs. I hope I last more than 30 seconds.

"That 'Asians have small dicks' thing must be a myth," Daryl says as his hand measures my length.

"I'm a little smaller than average limp."

"You're plenty big enough now. A grower not a shower."

I close my eyes and moan because Daryl's fingers are live wires moving along my shaft.

"Let go," he whispers. "That's why I'm doing this. You'll enjoy it more when we get to the good stuff."

Good stuff? How much better can it get? But I don't ask because I can't talk while I come.

Daryl lifts his hand to his mouth and licks then offers it to me so I can taste myself. He gets up and takes his clothes off. It's not a strip tease, he undresses matter-of-factly, but it seems sexier because he's not making it a show. His boxers are the last thing off and I can't believe he complimented my cock because he's huge. As he moves to the bed I see that it's average length but the girth makes it look bigger. It's beautiful and I can't wait to touch it but I'm a little worried.

Daryl must have read my thoughts. "It's smaller when I get hard the second time. If you suck me off first it'll fit fine in the back door."

"Smaller. Really?"

"Same length but not so big around."

My mouth is bigger than my ass so that sounds good. I tug Daryl back down on the bed and lean over him. It's snug but I don't have a strong gag reflex and I'm sure the tight fit is better for Daryl. Sounds like it anyway. And his hands in my hair remind me of a few days ago when he checked my head for blood.

I'm hard again by the time Daryl shoots his load. He asks if I want to ride him first. I do, although I'm surprised that he offered. He's very dominant and I wasn't sure he'd want that.

There's plenty of lube and condoms because we both came prepared to come.

Daryl's back, chest, shoulders and arms are better than I imagined. It would be a pleasure to feel them or even just look but to be lying against him while thrusting into him is a sensory overload that makes me climax quicker than I would have liked. Daryl has recovered by then and it's his turn to be inside me. I'm still apprehensive about size until I see that his cock isn't quite as fat as the first time. He hits my prostate, dragging along it, and groans when I clench around him.

We're both wiped out after that. For a few minutes. Then I start to stroke my cock and get hard again.

Daryl raises his eyebrows. "Is this why there are so many Chinese? Because you all like to fuck so much?"

"I'm Korean."

"Whatever. You got stamina, kid."

"You thought I was Chinese instead of Korean?"

"I don't know the difference and you didn't say."

"I guess it didn't come up before.

"Your dick is what keeps coming up."

Daryl proceeds to blow me.

"Had enough?" he asks later. "Because I was done after my second one."

"Yeah," I say dreamily. "Maybe in the morning. Except I have to be back in the dorm tonight."

"Your debt is paid. You don't owe me anymore."

"That's not why this happened is it?"

"Naw. You really want to see me again?"

"I don't think I can stay away."

Daryl

You and Merle are busy with the farm and Glenn has to study so you don't meet again for a week although you phone each other a few times.

You were calm when it happened but now it scares you to think of how easily you might have hurt or killed this kid and turned him into another tragic hunting accident statistic.

There's more conversation and slightly less sex but you enjoy the evening as much as the first one. The following week is Thanksgiving.

"You going home to Michigan?"

"It's not worth it for a few days. I'll have a month at Christmas."

"If you got no plans you're welcome to come to the farm. Merle's girlfriend will be there."

"I'd like that."

"Stay all weekend if you want to."

Glenn shows up with a backpack and driving a sporty red car. Andrea arrives in her BMW with a Coach travel bag. You will never understand how Merle managed to attract an attorney from Atlanta.

You bagged the turkey a couple of days ago so you handle the meat and Merle makes the fixings. Andrea brought pumpkin pie, homemade not bought. She's not just a pretty face with blonde hair and a hot body. You're not a connoisseur of the female form but you recognize quality when you see it. Glenn has cranberries, a pretty face, black hair and a hot body you appreciate a lot more than Andrea's.

Glenn

Daryl's brother is big with buzzed hair and rough-hewn features. And maybe some hidden qualities because his girlfriend is gorgeous, smart and rich.

Merle calls me jailbait and chicken and refers to Daryl as faguar and manther but he soon tires of it and we all settle down together for four days. I've always lived in the city and the farm is fascinating to me. Andrea likes it, too. She thinks about leaving the city to be a simple country lawyer. The brothers are taking a break for the long weekend but there are some daily chores and we all pitch in.

The weeks until winter break go fast and then the month at home is slow. I'm glad to see my family and Christmas is fun but I miss Daryl.

We get together regularly when the new semester starts. I've also made friends at school. A group invites me to go to South Padre Island for spring break. I'd like to but I hate to miss a week with Daryl. He tells me to go.

"You should experience college, not just put in the time. Besides, I'll be busy with spring planting."

So I go and I have a good time but the farm might have been more fun. It's different when I get back. I wonder if Daryl is getting tired of me. He said he was too old for me but maybe I'm too young for him. The sex is better than ever but when we're not in bed it feels like there's distance between us. We used to talk about everything. I'd like to go home for the summer but I'm afraid it will be over between us and he'll find someone else.

Daryl

It's time to let Glenn go. He's finding his place at university and meeting people and doing the things a kid his age should do. You expected to lose interest in each other by now but it didn't happen. You're in deeper than you've ever been before and it's not fair to Glenn. If only he was a few years older. He's 19 now but you're 35 with all of the 20s and half the 30s between you. You'll never be in the same decade together.

You encourage him to go home for the summer and give you a call when he returns in the fall. He probably won't because summer is forever at that age. The break will be made and he'll move on painlessly. You'll try to move on, too, but it won't be painless.

Mid-summer you meet a man a couple of years older than you. The sex is only okay. You know you're not really trying but this is a rebound that won't last, that's the point. It's over a few weeks later.

Fall term starts and you feel a pang of regret.

Glenn calls two weeks later.

Glenn

I slept with two guys over the summer, both close to my age. The sex was nothing special and neither was the conversation. I broke up with each one after a month. They didn't play with my nipples like Daryl does. I didn't ask him to and I didn't know I'd like it so much; he just did it. I'm glad to be back in Athens. It was nice to see my family but Georgia feels more like home than Michigan.

Daryl probably didn't mean it when he said to call when I get back, but I have to. He agrees to meet. He looks unbelievably good to me. The first few minutes are awkward but then we talk easily. We end up at the motel we went to our first time together. Being in bed with Daryl again is familiar but not boring. It feels great but also sad because it's really over this time. Daryl says getting together once more was inevitable and maybe a good thing. The age difference would matter less if we were older. We just met at the wrong time. He doesn't want to get in the way of the life I should have right now.

I hate the idea but he might be right. I'm mature for my age but I have some growing up to do and that doesn't mean sleeping around and comparing them to Daryl.

We kiss goodbye.

Daryl

It's spring before you feel like trying to meet someone. A few weeks later there's a connection of sorts with a man you learn is three years younger than you. You put Glenn out of your mind and concentrate on the person in front of you. It works for a while but the initial connection never progresses and eventually you are going through the motions. Both of you know it and it can't go on.

You aren't over Glenn. Maybe you never will be. He's the only one you've ever really cared for and you no longer want to try with anybody else. It wasn't just the sex. He was bright and quick and interesting.

During the summer you cut your hand bad enough to need stitches. Merle drives you to the ER in Athens. There are a couple of small clinics closer but Merle dismisses them as band aid stations.

The ER doc introduces himself as Edwin Jenner and asks if a pre-med student can observe. You don't mind.

Glenn comes in and turns white when he sees you. He's not embarrassed to meet again, he's upset that you're hurt.

"It's just a scratch."

"From rusty metal? When was your last tetanus shot? You may need a booster."

You think he's overreacting but Dr. Jenner smiles approvingly. "Very good, Mr. Rhee."

You wonder if Glenn will call later.

Glenn

I drive to the Dixon farm when my shift ends. It's almost midnight and Daryl needs his rest after being injured but this is too important. I've made a real effort to put myself out there. I've got friends but no lovers. I've met a couple of guys but we didn't sleep together. They just weren't interesting enough to me to go further. I miss Daryl. There are reasons we gravitated to each other.

"I thought you were going to be a psychiatrist," Daryl says when he opens the door.

"You have to do rotations in all fields of medicine for a medical degree so I'm spending the summer in different departments to see what it's like."

"You could have worked at a hospital in Michigan."

"I go there to visit but I live here now. Are you going to let me in?"

He stands back. I take a chair in the living room. Daryl sits on the sofa.

"How do you feel?"

"Like I got woke up."

"Liar. You were waiting up."

"I thought you might call."

"This isn't a conversation for the phone. How's your arm?"

"Hurts a little but it's okay."

I hesitate. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"No."

"Neither am I. Have you? The last year, I mean."

"Two. You?"

"The same. They didn't last and I didn't care." I pause before going for it. "I love you, Daryl."

He sighs as if giving in. "I love you, too."

I get up and sit beside him on the sofa. "I'm 20. You'll be 37 soon. They're just numbers. We belong together."

Daryl puts his good arm around me and pulls me in for a kiss. "It felt like forcing something with anybody else. With you, it's just there. Will your folks mind me being older?"

"They'll be concerned at first but not after they know you. We could go to Michigan for Christmas."

"Or they could come here."

"Even better. It'll give them a break from the cold."

"You've got a lot of school left."

"Two years plus some grad school for a masters or doctorate."

"What about medical school?"

"I'm going to be a psychologist instead of a psychiatrist."

"No. I don't want you giving up med school for me."

"I'm not. I suspected I wouldn't care for the other fields of medicine. That's why I'm working at the hospital this summer. To find out for sure."

"Will you keep an apartment in Athens? I'd like to have you here but there's a commute."

"It's fast, almost all interstate. But this is Merle's home, too, and the house is small for three."

"Andrea wants to get married and have a baby. They're buying that big farmhouse up the road."

"Wow. I missed a lot the past year. See how everything is working out? It's meant to be."

"Can you stay tonight? When do you have to go back?"

"My shift is 3 to 11. I can stay."

"Let's go to bed."

"Yes, but no sex."

"Sorry, that's a deal breaker for getting back together."

"I meant tonight."

"That's kind of bossy. Are you in charge of our sex schedule now?"

"You're on painkillers."

"I can still get hard."

"Your arm hurts and I think we're both tired."

"Okay, but I make no promises about the morning."

* * *

Merle eased his door closed and quietly got back in bed. He knew his brother had never gotten over that kid. When Merle and Andrea made their plans, he worried about Daryl being alone. It had been simple enough to find out where Glenn Rhee was. Merle had been prepared to wait until fall if the kid had gone home for the summer. Luckily he stayed in Georgia. Merle had been thinking how to arrange matters when Daryl cut his hand. It was too bad he got hurt but the opportunity was too good to miss. And the kid was working in the ER so Merle didn't even have to have him paged!

Glenn was right. Some things were meant to be.

* * *

Daryl

You wake up feeling better than you have for months despite the arm. Glenn is still asleep. You start playing with his nipples, licking one and squeezing the other. He wakes up wiggling against your mouth and fingers. He smiles and reaches for your stiff dick which is already leaking against his leg.

Glenn sleeps again afterward. You'll drop off, too, but you take a minute to think about how he's changed since you saw him last. He was always smart and confident but last night there was a determination and purpose you haven't seen before. You like it.


	9. Corporation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corporation: a group of persons united.
> 
> Daryl and Glenn are together and taking care of business.

Glenn

The sports bar is kind of a dive but that's not a disadvantage for a blue collar joint in Georgia. And it serves Daryl's favorite beer. We start at a table by ourselves with pulled pork sandwiches served southern style with a scoop of coleslaw on top. There are other men and a few women filling the place. When the game starts, it gets convivial, pushing tables together, taking turns buying rounds and springing for hot wings at half-time.

I'm designated driver on nights like this because Daryl likes beer more than I do. I had one with supper and one more early in the evening and then I switched to soda. Daryl isn't drunk but he's pleasantly buzzed by the time the game is over.

He's also horny as we head to the truck a couple of blocks away. He backs me up to a crumbling brick wall and kisses me. I put an arm around his neck and a hand between his legs. We won't do more but this is a nice interlude, a little foretaste of what will happen at home.

We're turning toward the truck again when a belligerent voice half-slurs, "Looka that. Couple of goddamned queers."

"Filthy fags," another voice mutters.

"Let's get to the truck," I whisper.

Of course Daryl ignores me and instead turns to face four men in various stages of inebriation. Daryl probably thinks the odds look good.

"I tried you all's mamas and sisters." Daryl's drawl is more pronounced when he's been drinking. "That's when I got turned off women. 'Course I'm bein' generous callin' 'em women. They were barely human much less female. But they did say I was a better fuck than their sons and brothers."

This speech enrages the four. 1 and 2 start for Daryl. 3 and 4 hang back, not like they're afraid or having second thoughts about the beating but as if they're content to watch their companions bludgeon us until it's their turn. I back against the wall again.

Daryl steps forward to meet his attackers. His fist clenches and he draws his arm back low for an upward jab to the solar plexus. 1 sees Daryl's move and drops his arms to protect his abdomen. 2 rushes forward but teeters on the heels of his cowboy boots. Daryl is planted solid in his work boots. He sweeps one foot at 2's legs and 2 stumbles. At the same time Daryl straightens his arm and raises it to smash 1's unprotected face. 2 falls over his own feet and Daryl's boot so Daryl kicks him while he's down. 1's hands are pressed against his bloody nose and Daryl gives him the punch in the solar plexus that he previously avoided.

3 and 4 are slow to step in, not having foreseen this turn of events. 3 heads for Daryl and 4 turns to me. I'm still standing at the wall with my arms behind me. 4 raises a fist to me and I meet it with the loose brick I pulled from the wall. 4 bends over howling and holding his broken hand.

3 manages to hit Daryl but Daryl turns slightly and takes the blow on his hunched shoulder so it does little damage. But he's in a bad position to lash back and 3 is on him again so I bash his head with the brick. Up the block a cruiser rolls toward us, lights revolving on the roof rack. It's the po-po! The siren sounds once as the cruiser pulls to the curb.

The driver, a big black man, stays behind his open door with gun drawn. His partner, a large white man with ginger hair and mustache approaches, gun also drawn.

"Weapons down, hands up and open."

I drop the brick. When it's clear there is nothing else in anyone's hands, the officer calls out, "No weapons, Tyreese, except for Brick Boy. This is what you call fisticuffs."

Tyreese comes forward. "Son, maybe you should put that brick back before the wall falls down."

"I think there's blood on it," I tell him. "Do you need to bag and tag it?"

Tyreese sighs. "Abraham, we got another CSI fan."

Abraham looks around. "Anybody pressing charges?"

Nobody speaks.

"Then we don't need the brick."

"Can I have it?"

"What for?"

"Souvenir."

Daryl snorts. The officers laugh.

"Sure, Brick Boy. But don't pick it up until we're all ready to leave."

"What happened here?" Tyreese inquires mildly. "And I hope the story matches what we saw from up the street."

"You could have stopped it?" I'm indignant because we could have been badly hurt.

"I was in favor of that," Tyreese replies. "But my partner said let it play out. He's got seniority."

"You two did all right," Abraham says. "I figured these four were drunker. Thought it would be interesting. We didn't bet on it or anything." He pauses. "On an unrelated matter, Ty, you owe me 20 bucks."

"They called us queers and fags and were going to beat us up," I tell them.

"Hate crime," Abraham says. "Sure you don't want to press charges?"

"We're sure." Daryl finally speaks. "Stop talking, kid." Uh oh. Everybody else was silent, no doubt aware of some code. But I've never been in a fight interrupted by the law before.

"Anybody need an ambulance?" Abraham asks.

Silence.

"Some of you might need medical attention but you're on your own if you refuse treatment here. Is one of you okay to drive?"

2, who had only fallen down and been kicked in the back, raises his hand. Tyreese administers a breathalyzer test which 2 passes, barely.

"Let's see some ID before you four leave," Abraham orders.

"Who was the ringleader?" Abraham asks me. I'm the snitch of the group. I point to 1.

Abraham starts with him, shining his flashlight in each face as he checks their licenses.

"Gareth West. Not a good judge of victims, are you Gary? Anthony Munoz. You're too fat to fight in high heels, Tony. David James. Congratulations, Dave, you're the only one who actually landed a punch. Randall Culver. How did fist bumping a brick work out for you, Randy?"

"All right, get the hell out of here. Looks like two gays are tougher than four straight assholes. Keep that in mind," Abraham calls out as they limp away.

When they're gone Tyreese turns to me. "Wasn't going to get into this while they were around but this guy called you kid. I gotta know how old you are."

"I'm not a kid, he just calls me that sometimes. I'm 22."

Tyreese shines his flashlight on my face. "Probably. But let's see some ID."

I hand over my driver's license.

"Glenn Rhee," Tyreese says to Abraham. "Gonna be 23 next month." He hands my license back. "Happy Birthday, kid."

"See what you started?" I say to Daryl.

"Sorry, baby, it slipped out," Daryl replies deadpan.

We all laugh. I'm glad to hear Daryl flirting in company. It bodes well for continuing the activity that got so rudely interrupted by those four goons.

"Rhee." Tyreese frowns. "I've seen that before."

"Pizza place," Abraham says.

"That's right. Pizza-Rhee-a."

I'm pleased they recognized it. "That's my place. Have you been in?"

"Yeah, you make a decent pie. But I thought the sign was misspelled."

"I thought it was clever at the time, but nobody knows what it means. Maybe I should change it."

"Naw, it's good," Abraham says. "Just need to add your name in front so everybody gets the word play right away. Make it Glenn Rhee's Pizza-Rhee-a."

"You're a marketing genius." I mean it. It's a good idea and I wish I'd thought of it.

"And you need a lighted sign instead of that plain billboard," Abraham goes on. "I got a buddy in the neon business." He searches his pockets and hands me a crumpled card. "Eugene'll fix you up."

"It sounds great but I'm not sure I can afford it."

Daryl, who probably hopes to get laid before midnight, speaks again. "I'll buy the sign for your birthday. Let's go."

"There you go," Abraham says. "That sign will bring in more customers. It's not just a birthday present, it's an investment."

I pull out cards of my own for Abraham and Tyreese. "Your next pizzas are free. Thanks guys."

"I better see your ID, too, Boyfriend." Abraham looks it over. "Daryl Dixon. Here's another familiar last name."

"Dixon Ales," Tyreese tells him.

"That's it. No wonder I feel thirsty. Any relation?"

"Me and my brother have a brewery."

"Two upstanding taxpaying citizens. You're free to go."

Daryl picks up the brick I dropped.

"He really wants the brick for a souvenir?" Tyreese asks.

"Yeah, he does," Daryl replies. I just grin and nod.

Daryl

You shouldn't have gone for Glenn until you were in the truck. You don't care for public displays of affection by homo or hetero couples but it was late, the street was empty and dim and you couldn't wait to get your hands and mouth on him. Your lust resulted in giving an attitude adjustment to four prejudiced pricks but you don't regret the fight. It was good exercise and the adrenaline sobered you up. You're proud of Glenn for doing his part.

On the drive home, Glenn says you don't have to buy the new sign. "I can write it off as a business expense."

"Sure, but I'll pay for it. And I want the old sign. We met because of it, remember?"

_Glenn_

_My pizza place had been open a week and business was still slow when two men walked in. The first was tall with buzzed hair and blunt features, rugged rather than handsome. The second was a couple of inches shorter but his shoulders were broad and his features refined and modeled to be very good-looking. The blue eyes didn't hurt either._

" _I can take your order whenever you're ready."_

" _I got a question," Blunt said. Blue Eyes studied the menu board._

" _Go ahead."_

" _What's with the sign? I ain't a spelling bee champ but it don't look right."_

" _It's a play on my last name. I'm Glenn Rhee."_

" _Huh. Guess that's witty then. And you're young to have your own place. I heard Chinese kids were smart."_

" _I'm Korean."_

" _Whatever. We need a large with lots of meat and a couple of sodas. Daryl, I don't generally let a homo buy me dinner but I'll make an exception for my brother. Pay the man."_

_The customer is always right, but I couldn't stay silent. "I'm glad you're so open minded. I'm a homo, too. You won't mind that I make your pizza?"_

" _Wash your hands first." Blunt grinned at Daryl with raised eyebrows then went to a booth._

" _We'll take the Motley Meat Special," Daryl said._

_I handed him two cups for soda. "Help yourself. Let me get the pie started and I'll be back to ring it up." As I prepared the crust, spreading tomato paste and loading it with meat and toppings and cheese, I felt sorry for Daryl being related to Blunt._

" _Don't mind Merle," Daryl said as I came back to the counter._

" _I'm not easy to offend. But I have to ask, is he having a bad day or is he always racist and homophobic?"_

_Daryl laughed. "He doesn't mean anything by it. He thinks he's helping."_

" _Helping who?"_

" _Me."_

" _How?"_

" _In five minutes we knew each other's names and that we're both gay."_

" _You're saying he did that deliberately? To introduce us?"_

" _Yeah."_

" _Wait. How did he know I'm gay?"_

" _He suspected. I can't explain it."_

_I looked at Merle sipping soda in the corner and shook my head. "So unacceptable. But here we are. And I'm glad you stopped in."_

" _You with anybody?"_

" _No. You?"_

" _Nope. Maybe we should go out sometime. Since Merle went to all this trouble."_

" _This is bizarre. But okay." I couldn't resist. Daryl was really good-looking and he seemed nice. Maybe he was adopted._

_So we went out and we had a good time. It had a preliminary feel at first, like most first dates, when you wait to see if the second impression is as good as the first. It was better, possibly because Merle wasn't with us. I told Daryl about my family back in Michigan and my newly earned double degree in business administration and restaurant management. I learned that Daryl's parents are both dead and he and Merle own and operate a small brewery together. The kiss at the end of the evening started out tentative and quickly became hot which surprised both of us but not in a bad way._

_So we kept seeing each other and a few weeks later we went to bed and that was so good, coupled with our growing interest in each other, that we've been together ever since._

_When it became clear that our relationship would continue, Merle confessed that he saw a local TV clip of me and another man and woman who were starting new businesses. It was only a couple of minutes so we got about 30 seconds each but apparently that was enough for Merle._

" _Daryl wasn't finding anybody on his own so I had to step in," Merle explained. "He always tried guys too much like himself. I had an idea he needed somebody different."_

_Which still didn't explain why Merle suspected I was gay. But I didn't inquire further. I was just grateful that Merle is smarter than he looks._

Daryl

Finally at home and at long last in bed, you and Glenn lay facing each other. You grasp Glenn in one hand and pull your foreskin over the head of his dick. Your thumb rubs where you're joined. You remember the first time you did it when Glenn creamed almost immediately. He lasts longer this time but soon enough he's squirming and he shoots seconds later.

He rolls a condom over your hard-on. You grease your dick quickly and then take your time lubing Glenn's hole. He's positioned over a pile of pillows. You ease in slow and careful and start with long smooth strokes that build faster than you'd like to short shallow thrusts. The whole damn evening was like foreplay and you feel no need to hold off. Suddenly your balls are no longer swollen with sperm and your shaft isn't bloated with blood.

You both relax a few minutes before cleaning up. You fall asleep in each other's arms.

Glenn

Two days later I call the number on the card. A woman takes my info and arranges for Eugene to stop by the next day.

During the afternoon slow time, a man with a mullet walks in accompanied by a very pretty Hispanic woman.

"This is Eugene Porter. I'm his office manager, Rosita Espinosa."

"Hey there," Eugene says in what sounds like a Texas twang. He's a little odd, with a flat voice and stiff posture.

"He's very good at what he does," Rosita assures me, apparently reading my thoughts. "Although this business would not exist without me."

"I heard that," Eugene says, "And I concur. I am not a businessman, I am a scientist employed in the industry of neon signage. I believe I have discovered my niche in life working with glass tubes and ionized gases. My previous job was teaching science to middle school students." He shudders. "I trust you know why I changed fields."

"Sure, teaching isn't for everyone, including me."

"I'm glad you agree. What can we do for you?"

"I need a new sign." Eugene is staring straight at me with wide unblinking eyes which is so disconcerting that I turn to Rosita instead. "The name of this place is a play on my last name but it confuses everyone so ..."

Eugene interrupts. "I notice your attention has shifted to my assistant. This is natural as she is a very attractive specimen but you should know that she is keeping company with my friend Abraham. Out of loyalty to him, I could not allow any dalliance to occur on my watch."

"Understood. My boyfriend wouldn't like it, either."

"Ah. I apologize for misunderstanding your intention. Carry on."

Rosita speaks. "This will go faster if I tell you that Abraham said you might call. Here are three designs I came up with. Or let me know what you have in mind and we'll go from there."

I look at her drawings in awe. "I like them all."

"Three signs then?" Eugene asks. "Excellent."

"No! I can afford only one."

"Abraham said you have a sugar daddy paying for the sign. Maybe he'll buy all three."

I can't help laughing. "He's not that rich a sugar daddy."

Rosita speaks again. "Eugene, we've talked about this. You're not helping. I design and sell. You make the signs. Division of labor, remember?"

Eugene appears to be searching his memory. "Correct. I'll look around." He wanders off.

Rosita sighs. "He really is the best. I promise you'll be satisfied. Can you narrow it down?"

I take another look. This time as I study them I notice the differences and can pick the one I like best.

"Good choice. We'll get some measurements and I'll send you a proposal." Rosita looks around. "Where is he? Eugene!"

"Back here."

Eugene closes a panel on the side of the pizza oven. "I cleaned the leads and recalibrated the thermostat," he says casually.

"Wow, thank you. The maintenance is coming up and I was going to call someone next week. What do I owe you?"

"No charge, I like to keep busy."

"Well, let me give you some cards for free pizza."

"That's better than money to him," Rosita whispers to me as they leave.

* * *

Rosita was right, I love the sign. The circle represents a pizza with  _ **Glenn Rhee's**_  in smaller red script arching over the top of  **PIZZA-RHEE-A**  in big blue letters below. The colors are beautiful and really stand out.

A week later I close early for a private party. I provide pizza, soda, salad and breadsticks. Daryl brings the beer and Merle brings his girlfriend Andrea. Abraham arrives with Rosita and Eugene. Tyreese is with Carol who is Sophia's mother. All my staff are here tonight. They're part-time, still in high school or college. Noah is assistant manager, Duane and Carl make deliveries and Sophie and Beth work the counter. A pretty girl greeting customers is a good thing. Morgan Jones is here, too, he's Duane's father and Noah's uncle. Tyreese's sister Sasha shows up with her boyfriend Bob. Carl's father and almost-stepmom bring his little sister Judith. Rick Grimes and Michonne were my first customers on their first date a year ago. Rick is sheriff of a small town near Atlanta, widowed when his wife died in childbirth. That's so rare now, but a blood clot moved through Lori's heart and suddenly she was gone.

Eugene approaches and asks to talk privately so I take him back to the cubbyhole where I do paperwork. Eugene is socially awkward but not shy. He jumps right in.

"I am aware that this is a couples' world. Everyone is paired off except me. I feel the need for female companionship and have come to you for advice."

"I'm no expert on women, Eugene. Other team, remember?"

"That's one of the reasons I chose you. You have a successful relationship with Daryl and though he is of the same gender I believe it qualifies you to assist me. I present no threat to your interests so you have no reason to sabotage my efforts with the fairer sex."

Eugene has certainly given it some thought and arrived at a logical conclusion.

"I'd be happy to help but I'm not sure I can. You're right that everyone seems to be with someone. I don't think I know any single girls right now." I think about the crowd out front. "It's too bad Tara is gay, she likes you."

Eugene nods. "At one time I regretted she is a lesbian but have decided it's for the best. It would be a mistake to introduce a sexual element to our friendship. What about Beth's sister Maggie?"

"Actually, I think she and Tara are getting close."

"Another lesbian. My luck is out. Even Daryl's brother, who is a skunk of the widest stripe, has acquired in Andrea a mate better than he deserves."

"They might deserve each other. Andrea has a side you don't know about. She had a thing with Rick's former partner Shane before he was killed in the line of duty. I understand Shane was a little twisted. And then she took up with that Blake guy who was leader of the Woodbury Cult. He's dead now, too."

"I appreciate you informing me of Andrea's Black Widow traits. I no longer envy Merle. I thought Andrea was a civil rights lawyer."

"She is but she's attracted to bad boys. Merle called her 'Sugar Tits' the first time they met."

"That is disrespectful."

"But Andrea kind of liked it. She was torn between filing a suit or sleeping with him and you know what happened."

"Her hormones won."

"What about Abraham? He's your friend, maybe he could set you up."

"He tried. He introduced me to a fellow officer, Dawn Lerner. Our date did not go well."

"What happened?"

"She has anger issues and enjoys physical violence."

"She hit you?!"

"Affirmative."

"Don't be discouraged. The fact that you're open to possibility is a good start. You know, Daryl is 11 years older than me. He had to wait a lot longer than I did. You just haven't met the right one yet. But it could happen any time. Someone might come in for a sign and suddenly there's an opportunity. And I'll keep an eye out here. Someone could come in for pizza that I think would be perfect for you. That's how Daryl and I met."

Eugene looks less glum. Hope seems to have cheered him up. We go back to the others and discover the dancing has started. Daryl doesn't look like he would be a good dancer but he is. He dances with all the women but not close. He saves that for me. I'm glad to see that Eugene has plenty of partners. I hope he can find a partner for the rest of his life.

* * *

At home I tell Daryl about my talk with Eugene but he's blowing me at the same time and as much as I like Eugene I forget him and his trouble pretty easily with Daryl's mouth around my cock. Daryl hasn't come yet so when he gets back from the bathroom it's his turn. He stops in the doorway, reaches down and with one hard stroke brings himself to full erection. His squeeze forced the blood down his shaft and the head is huge and red. It looks like a baby's arm holding an apple. That line is usually an exaggeration but for Daryl it's true.

"What do I have to do to get your cock in my mouth?"

Daryl walks to the bed. "Open wide. Real wide."

Afterward Daryl proves he was listening earlier while giving me head. "Maybe Merle can help Eugene find a woman. He fancies himself a matchmaker since getting us together."

* * *

Business flourishes. I expand to other locations, get a liquor license and change the signs to include  _ **featuring Dixon Ales.**_  We develop a corporate chain and eventually merge and become Dixon Rhee Enterprises. Yes, I got second billing but there are two Dixons plus D is before R alphabetically.

Daryl considers that first sign as money well spent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Check out GobsmackApplejack's fanart labels for Dixon Ales!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3148127)


	10. Misconception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misconception: a wrong idea or impression.
> 
> Daryl and Glenn are mistaken about each other.

Daryl 

He was headed home to Georgia. Four days in L.A. was about all he could tolerate. Daryl was so far from being a schmoozer by nature that he fell off the chart but a certain amount of suffering for his art was necessary if he wanted to make a living. He missed his son although they talked every day. Keith was 12 and probably didn't miss his old man as much. It was summer and he was staying with his uncle. God knew what bad habits Merle had instilled in only a few days.

Daryl glanced around at a burst of laughter nearby. Asians. An older couple and two young women seemed to be saying goodbye to a kid because after a round of hugs they moved to another gate. The kid sat down, leaving an empty seat between them. Daryl studied him covertly. Not as young as he first thought, maybe 25, but he looked like a college kid in jeans, tee shirt and ball cap. Daryl was 36 but didn't feel like he was closer to 40 than 30. He was in good shape and had his hair and teeth. But not like this kid with pale smooth skin and shiny black hair and a gleaming white smile. He was lean but his arms showed muscle definition and when he leaned back to stretch his shirt rode up on his flat belly. The jeans were low on his hips with no underwear visible. Daryl glimpsed a line of dark hair beginning to arrow down ...

The kid pulled his shirt down and settled back in his seat and Daryl jerked his gaze away so as not to be caught staring. Christ's sake, it had been so long since he got laid that he was checking out guys at the airport.

"Going home?" the kid asked.

"Huh?" Daryl, lost in thought, was caught offguard when the kid spoke.

"Are you going home or going away?"

"Home. To Atlanta."

"Me, too. The rest of my family is going back to Michigan. We've been to Korea for my grandmother's funeral."

"Sorry for your loss."

"Thanks. She was 91 and had been sick for awhile so: full life, blessed release, all that. Plus I'd only seen her for a couple of weeks every few years. Expensive for the whole family to go there very often."

Daryl nodded, not knowing what else to say. His grandparents were barely remembered folks from childhood. This kid seemed able to carry the conversation by himself anyway. Daryl admired that. He'd never been able to talk easily to strangers. Besides, if the kid was talking Daryl had a reason to look at him and the view was pretty damn nice.

When the flight was called he discovered they were both in first class and seated beside each other.

"Do you always fly first class?" the kid asked.

"Last couple of years. I only fly a few times a year."

"I'm usually in coach but all those miles to Korea got me an upgrade coming back. This is good."

Daryl didn't add that his agent made the travel arrangements and insisted on first class for her client. The buyers were paying so why not? Daryl had a feeling maybe he and this kid were meant to meet. He clamped down on that thought. He wasn't sure the kid was gay although there had been some silent signals during their visit in the waiting lounge.

"Are you a member of the mile high club?"

"Wh … wha … what?" Daryl couldn't help stuttering.

"You know what I mean, right?"

"Yeah." Daryl was startled, not stupid.

"So, are you?"

"No. Are you?"

"Nope. Would you like to be?"

"Could be interesting." Daryl couldn't pass this up.

"I think so. We've got four hours to make it happen."

"How do we do that?"

"I go to the toilet. A minute later you're standing outside the door. If no one is around, go in."

"You've given this some thought."

"I've wanted to do it for years."

"Why didn't you?"

"Guess I was waiting for the right person."

"Why me?" Daryl was flattered but couldn't quite believe it.

"We're both gay, right? And we're strangers."

"Has to be a stranger?"

"Yes. We don't know each other's name. It's part of the adventure."

That suited Daryl. An anonymous fuck in an airplane john and then he'd be home with his son. This should fuel his solo fantasies for a long time. He squelched the thought that he'd like to know the kid's name and more. It was better this way.

The sex was managed with a minimum of awkwardness. The toilet was cramped so they opted for front to front frot. The circumstances excited them and it was over pretty fast, leaving them gasping into each other's shoulder. There wasn't much conversation the rest of the flight but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. Not much information could be exchanged if they wanted to remain anonymous. An hour from Atlanta they looked at each other again. Daryl went to the toilet, wondering if the kid would follow. He did. It was a repeat of the first time except they kissed and the kid whispered, "Thanks for helping me cross this off my bucket list." Daryl replied, "My pleasure." Neither of them spoke after that.

Daryl wondered why they had to remain strangers. The sex was fun but talking would be nice, too. He didn't think he had imagined their ease with each other. They were separated by other passengers when they left the plane and then he saw Keith and Merle waiting. Keith was too old to make a big deal of greeting his father but there was real feeling in their hug. Merle slapped Daryl on the back. Heading for the exit, he looked around and suddenly understood why the kid wanted to remain strangers. He was hugging a pretty woman who kissed him. The woman was white so she wasn't a blood relative. Did the kid have a het marriage but liked a helping of gay on the side? Or maybe they were engaged and the kid was bi and wanted to fulfill a fantasy before settling down to the straight life. Daryl didn't like either option because the kid had seemed open and honest and Daryl didn't want to think him capable of such betrayal.

He put it out of his mind with some regret and focused on his son. Keith had gone to elementary school in Benford but was going to a new school in Atlanta for seventh grade. "We gotta get you ready for school next week."

Keith scrunched up his face. "I guess." He looked at Merle. "Are you coming with us to the open house?"

"Hell yes. And I hope all your teachers ain't men."

"Merle, you are not going to hit on Keith's teachers."

"We'll see. Might raise the boy's grade point average."

"He'll do fine without that kind of help."

Glenn 

I had sex with a stranger on an airplane. Twice. I'd like to say grief over my halmoni's death clouded my judgment but the truth is I met a man at the departure gate that I really liked the look of and since we were also seatmates it was too good an opportunity to resist.

By the time we land I wish we could see each other again but earlier when I said our encounter should be anonymous that seemed fine with him and now I don't know how to retract it. I glance around, hoping for a last chance to fix this. I see him but I don't want to fix it after all because he's a cheater! He's hugging a boy and a big man's hand is on his back. I wonder if they adopted or if one of them is the biological father. No wonder he was okay with not exchanging names.

Maggie came to pick me up. She kisses me and says she sorry about my grandmother.

I have to stop thinking about blue eyes, brown hair and broad shoulders.

Daryl 

On the evening of the open house, Merle, who still lived in the family home near Benford, came to the loft in Atlanta that Daryl and his son had occupied for four years. While they waited for Keith, Merle told Daryl it was time to pay attention to himself now that his kid was growing up.

"You've never dated. Folks around Benford say you're such a good daddy, devoted to your son after the boy's mama died. I ain't deceived. Another way to look at it is, why didn't you find a nice woman so your kid had a mama and a daddy? And the reason is you didn't want a woman. So why didn't you try a man?"

"I was afraid Keith would get taken away."

"Daryl, they don't take kids away from fags anymore, they give 'em to fags. Look at that Elton John and his man adopting like they were competing with Brad and Angie." Merle's eyes narrowed. "Your head ain't so far up in the art cloud that you didn't know that. So I gotta ask myself why you're using it as an excuse. I can see not wanting to be caught sniffing around local gay bars. But you travel some. If you never took advantage it must be 'cause you never met anybody worth the trouble."

"I met somebody on the flight home last week." Despite his disgust Daryl hadn't been able to get that kid out of his head or his crotch.

"You gonna see him?"

"No." Daryl wasn't going to mention the wife or girlfriend. "I don't know his name."

Merle stared. "You are the sorriest sumbitch I know. Why not?"

"He wanted to stay anonymous."

Merle shook his head. "I'm glad I don't understand how the homo mind works. That sounds queer in more than one way."

"It was an adventure to him. Strangers on a plane."

"Knowing your name would ruin the conversation?"

"It wasn't just talk. We ... uh ... in the toilet ..."

"You did the deed with a dude on an airplane? I thought you was sexually backward. I ain't even joined the mile high club. Yet. Now I gotta fly someplace quick so I can catch up."

Keith came out of his room, ready to go. "Why do you have a tie, Merle? It's not that formal."

Merle was wearing jeans, a shirt and a jacket with a tie draped over his shoulders. "Thought I'd raise the tone of this event."

"It's a prop," Daryl said. He'd seen this move of Merle's before.

Glenn 

The Horvath Academy is a small private day school with a great reputation and impeccable credentials. The open house is in the gymnasium which doubles as an auditorium for assemblies and plays. Parents and kids are in the bleachers with teachers and staff on the stage. The floor is left free for mingling later. The founder, Dale Horvath, says a few words of welcome then turns it over to the principal, Rick Grimes. Rick used to be in law enforcement and believes in structure and discipline but he's not rigid about it. He's a good guy. He introduces each of us:

Andrea Harrison, social studies  
Sasha Williams, mathematics  
Eugene Porter, science  
Glenn Rhee, English and Korean foreign language  
Maggie Greene, family and home life  
Rosita Espinosa, art and Spanish foreign language  
Michonne Gurira, PE and sports coach  
Tyreese Williams, PE and sports coach  
Abraham Ford, security and maintenance  
Bob Stookey, cafeteria services  
And last but not least – Nurse Jacqui!

That gets a big laugh because of the TV series with the same name but different spelling. Jacqui says that Dr. Edwin Jenner couldn't be here tonight but he'll be performing sports physicals for the students the first week of school.

Everyone mills around afterward. Bob is manning the refreshment table with coffee, punch and cookies. We'll all take turns helping him. Sasha goes first. Little romance brewing there. Her brother Tyreese is talking with Carol Peletier. I met Carol when she enrolled her daughter Sophia, who is speaking with Maggie. Andrea and Michonne are friends, they're making the rounds together. Eugene looks odd with his mullet and bow tie but he's very smart. He doesn't always interact well with people so Abraham is playing wingman. Rosita is talking with the man whose cock was rubbing against mine last week. I'm stunned to see him again even though I've thought about him. A lot. I didn't see him from the stage but that's not surprising, it was a blur of faces. I glance around and see the big man and the boy from the airport. The big man looks amiable at the moment but I bet he could cause serious damage when angry. Their son going to this school is the worst coincidence in history.

It's my turn to help Bob.

Daryl 

From the bleachers he watched the teachers file on stage and sit down. He hadn't met all of them when he enrolled Keith. That was obvious when the kid and his girl from the airport showed up. Could he switch Keith to another school? Not without a good reason and he sure couldn't explain the real one. Did their encounter make the kid unfit to mold young minds? Not necessarily. Daryl didn't suppose the kid would be bragging about it in class or suggesting it to seventh graders.

He learned the kid's name soon enough. The girl had a different last name but she might be using her maiden name. The kid had worn no wedding ring and he couldn't see the girl's hand. Afterward the art teacher Rosita Espinosa came over and he was glad to be distracted. He had seen her portfolio when he toured the school and thought she was clever and creative. She said she admired his work and was delighted his son would be attending. Daryl didn't tell her that Keith wasn't very interested in art.

Carol, his agent, stopped to say hello. Carol had recommended the Horvath Academy. Daryl told her if Keith liked the school he would donate one of his pieces or make something special for the school. Carol said it would be good publicity and a great tax deduction.

After Carol moved on, Daryl saw his son getting a cup of punch from the kid. He reached the refreshment table in time to hear Keith introduce himself. "And this is my dad," he added when he saw his father.

"Daryl Dixon."

"Glenn Rhee."

Keith wandered off.

"We should talk," Glenn said. He wrote an address on the back of a napkin and handed it to Daryl. "I have an apartment. Eight tomorrow night?"

Daryl nodded, stuffed the napkin in his pocket and walked away. Unbelievable. Did this kid keep a separate apartment for his activities? Daryl tried not to think about Glenn Rhee and that interlude on the plane.

Keith popped up beside him and they watched Andrea Harrison pour coffee for Merle. He said something and she laughed and came around the table to tie his tie.

"Is that what you meant when you called Merle's tie a prop?" Keith asked.

"Yep. He says women like to do little things for a man. It's his ice breaker."

Merle ambled over.

"Dad said you think women like to do stuff for guys."

"True. But mostly at the start of a relationship. It tends to fade over time so use it sparingly."

"Maybe it wears off because women like men to do stuff for them sometimes."

"Well, I can't say 'Like father like son' but if you figured that out about women already, maybe you'll be 'Like uncle like nephew'."

Glenn 

Keith Dixon is blond but has the same blue eyes as his father and it looks like his shoulders will widen in the next few years. I want to know more about Daryl Dixon before tomorrow night so after Andrea takes over helping Bob, I catch Rosita and casually ask about the man she was talking with earlier. She tells me he's a well-known artist. I google him when I get home and learn that he's the real deal and considered a big talent nationally. I can't decide if I'm proud or ashamed of knowing him biblically.

I'm nervous when he arrives. On the plane and at the open house he was in dark dress pants and shirt with good shoes but now he's wearing work pants and shirt and work boots. He looks like the big man and him belong together.

"I don't think anyone suspects we met before. I assume you want to keep it that way?" My voice is cool and calm. I don't want to give Daryl Dixon the satisfaction of knowing I haven't been able to forget him.

"Fine with me. I can see why you don't want anybody to know."

He sounds testy, like he's the injured party. Maybe he blames me for propositioning him instead of himself for accepting. "I don't want to get beat up, if that's what you mean."

"Maggie would throw a punch?" He sounds amused. "You deserve it, cheating on her."

"You're the cheater."

"I'm not the one with a girlfriend."

"Your partner doesn't count as cheating?" I pause and frown. "Maggie's not my girlfriend."

"What partner?" Daryl stops. "Wait a minute. Merle is my brother."

Uh oh. I may have misread the situation. "It looked like a different relationship when I saw you at the airport."

"I saw you, too. You and Maggie were pretty friendly."

"Because we're friends."

"She kissed you."

"Friends do that sometimes. Like when you get home from your grandmother's funeral."

"You're really not with anybody?"

"Nope. You?"

"No."

We look at each other for a minute.

"You still into sex with strangers?" Daryl asks.

"Just that once. It was something I always wanted to do. And don't tell me you didn't enjoy it."

"It wasn't terrible."

"Maybe we could get together again."

"If you're sure knowing our names won't spoil it."

"Is this how it's going to be? You're going to keep bringing that up?"

"I might occasionally."

"Well, it is kind of funny now. And we both jumped to conclusions in the airport."

"I only jumped to a conclusion because I figured Maggie was the reason you didn't want any names."

"There you go again."

"What's the deal with Maggie?"

"We met when I came here to university. I spend holidays at her family's farm if I don't go to Michigan. She's my best friend."

"Anything more?"

"Okay, yes, we slept together once."

"I knew it."

"We were 20 and I'd never been with a girl. I wanted to try it and she offered. It worked but it was nothing either of us wanted to repeat."

"Good."

"Were you ... jealous?"

"Just wanted to be sure you weren't going to want a threesome. Or that you go back and forth between men and women."

"Says the man with a son!"

"I slept with one woman once, too."

"Maggie and I used protection."

"You got me there. But I don't regret it."

"Of course not. Keith seems like a great kid."

"He is."

"He looks like you. Is his mother blonde?"

"Yeah."

"If his hair hasn't started to darken by now it'll probably stay light."

"Do you have a thing for blonds? Is my brown hair going to be a problem?"

"No, I like that the three of us have blond, brown and black hair."

"You really are gay, to notice that."

"Maggie's a redhead – natural I might add – and your brother is mostly gray so we've got those covered."

"Stop now."

"Okay. Would you like to see my apartment?"

Daryl looks around the small space. "I can see everything from here except the bedroom and bathroom."

"Would you like to see them?"

"Are you suggesting sex again? Because we've already done it in a bathroom."

"Bedroom it is, then."

Daryl 

He was angry with himself for the images in his mind as he approached Glenn Rhee's apartment. Then he was pissed off because the kid went on the offense which made Daryl feel defensive when he wasn't the one in the wrong. After that the misunderstandings got cleared up and the conversation turned flirtatious. Pretty soon Glenn suggested sex and it was no use pretending it hadn't been on his mind as well. Good to know they'd both been thinking the same thing. But Keith was home alone.

"I gotta make arrangements."

Glenn tactfully left the room while Daryl called Merle. Merle didn't mind staying over with Keith. The loft was like a boys club and Merle was a big kid. He didn't demand an explanation but Daryl knew he owed his brother some details eventually, especially if this thing with Glenn continued.

Which seemed likely after they finished with each other hours later. Daryl was satisfied for the moment but didn't think he'd ever get his fill of this kid.

After awhile Glenn said, "I'd like to know about Keith's mother. And how you became an artist."

"It's kind of connected."

"Tell me."

Daryl settled back against the pillows, remembering ...

_He'd been creative even as a child mixing water with red Georgia clay and baking it in the hot sun. Most kids liked messing with mud but Daryl was serious about it. No simple mud pies for him. He made all kinds of things, some recognizable – a vase for mama, an ashtray for daddy – others were shapes that existed only in his imagination. He collected smooth stones, rough rocks, colorful quartz, bits of glass and metal. This was boy-stuff and tolerated by daddy until Daryl reached an age when such foolishness should have passed. Daryl was canny enough to know daddy didn't like 'different' so Daryl took up whittling which was an acceptable pastime. Even daddy carved up a corn cob upon occasion when he wasn't too drunk to cut himself._

_Daryl learned to hide the bits and pieces he couldn't help noticing and picking up. He was an indifferent student except in art class. Painting, sculpting, even a simple paper collage – he liked it all. This could have led to him getting beat up on a regular basis by male classmates who considered art was for girls but Daryl also enjoyed woodworking and mechanical arts like the other boys and that was enough for him to escape notice. He wasn't much of a team player and didn't care a lot about sports but he was a decent athlete so he played football and that also set him apart from the math nerds and science geeks who were as likely to get beat up as sissies who liked art instead of sports. In short, Daryl was smart enough to keep a low profile._

_Daryl's folks passed within a year of each other when he was 17. After high school he took part-time work that allowed him time in the shed housing his odd collections. Merle was exasperated that Daryl didn't get a full-time job and make some real money but left him alone as long as he paid his share of expenses. Which Daryl did but just barely. It was a struggle. Daryl had tried to give up his compulsion but it wouldn't leave him alone._

_At 20 Daryl sold his first piece to the local postmistress. Mrs. Hattel's husband was a successful farmer so they had more money than the average family in Benford. Daryl had displayed a few things at a craft fair, including a waterfall a foot high. The water was chips of quartz and glass imbedded as a mosaic and surrounded by the small stones and pieces of rock he'd gathered years before. Daryl considered it the best thing he'd ever done and was pleased that Mrs. Hattel thought it was worth $100. She came to look at it three times before finally sighing and laying down cash, saying she'd save on gas and shoe leather if she just took it home with her. As Daryl wrapped it carefully he asked if her husband would mind her buying it._

" _I earn my own money," Mrs. Hattel said with a glint in her eye. "But I might make his favorite supper tonight. And maybe we'll go to bed early."_

_Daryl suppressed a grin. He guessed Mrs. Hattel knew her man pretty well. The next few years he continued to sell an occasional piece. It was just enough to keep him going._

_Daryl's five year reunion was a turning point. Joyce came back for it. She and her folks had moved to Georgia because her dad was a big deal in some corporation. She'd gone to the consolidated high school near Benford but moved to Chicago for college because her dad got transferred again. She and Daryl hadn't been close but they'd known each other well enough that they were glad to meet up again. She hadn't brought a spouse or a date and neither did Daryl so they hung out together. Daryl never talked much, especially about himself, but after a few drinks Joyce confided a split with her boyfriend. It had been several months and it was time to move on. When the reunion broke up she suggested spending the night together and Daryl agreed. Joyce wasn't drunk but her judgment was questionable. In other circumstances Daryl wouldn't have taken advantage but this was an offer he didn't want to refuse. He was a virgin at 23. It had just never happened for him. He was at ease with boys but shy with girls. He had wondered if he was gay when towel snapping and rough-housing in the locker room was uncomfortably arousing. There was an incident with another boy when he was 18 but he was too uncertain and embarrassed to pursue it so he shut down that part of life and took care of himself. This was his chance to find out if he was attracted to women._

_It went okay. Daryl performed as required but when it was over he knew he didn't want it to happen again. But he was still too closed off to explore the other option. He didn't want to cruise gay bars and he rarely went anywhere he might meet somebody. And then, three years later, came the call from Joyce's mother._

" _Daryl Dixon?"_

" _Yeah."_

" _This is Beverly Taylor. You may not remember me but I'm Joyce's mother." The woman's voice broke._

" _Uh, sure, Mrs. Taylor, I remember." Daryl immediately felt guilty about sleeping with her daughter._

" _This will be a shock. She was going to tell you soon but now she's dead ..." Mrs. Taylor sobbed._

" _You're saying Joyce is dead?" Daryl was certainly shocked but didn't know what it had to do with him._

" _This morning in a car crash. An early snow here in Chicago and the streets are icy." Mrs. Taylor was still having trouble talking._

" _I'm sorry," Daryl said, at a loss for words. "I ... uh ... I'm just really sorry."_

" _I didn't want to tell you over the phone like this but there's no other way. Joyce has a little boy. Your son."_

_Daryl swayed. His eyes and ears weren't working and his legs were about to stop, too. Merle had been listening without much interest. Now he pushed Daryl onto the sofa and took the phone._

" _This is Daryl's brother Merle. What's goin' on?"_

_Merle hung up a few minutes later. "Well, Daddy, you got some splainin' to do but I don't suppose you're in any shape right now."_

_Merle did the explaining. Joyce had a son with Daryl listed as the father on the birth certificate. She was dead and her mom was asking Daryl to come to Chicago. Joyce's dad had been sick for a year and due to die soon and the shock of his daughter's death was likely to take him right away. Beverly had been taking care of her husband but there were money troubles and she couldn't cope with her grandson on her own._

_Daryl told Merle about the reunion. The baby's date of birth was right._

" _I have to get on a bus," Daryl said._

" _You gotta be there quicker than that," Merle replied, but he knew Daryl didn't have money for airfare. "Go pack a bag. I'll drive you."_

_At ATL Merle paid for the ticket and waited with Daryl who was finally getting his head together. He had been surprised to hear about the Taylor's finances because they had been rich when they were in Georgia. Merle told him Mrs. Taylor said something about bad investments and medical expenses. She hoped Daryl would take his son. She loved him but she couldn't raise him. Daryl remembered that Joyce had been a late baby because the Taylors were in their 60's when they were in Georgia. They'd be in their 70's now._

" _Get a DNA test to be sure," Merle advised. "If he's yours, bring him home."_

_The snow had stopped when Daryl landed at O'Hare. He took a taxi to the address Beverly had given Merle. He was shaking with nerves and excitement and fear. He calmed down when Beverly came to the door. He hadn't been thinking much about Joyce but seeing her mother's grief made him remember the pretty young girl Joyce had been in school and later the woman he'd carelessly had unprotected sex with._

_Daryl didn't want to sound accusing but he did ask Beverly why Joyce hadn't let him know she was pregnant._

" _I don't know. I said she should but she wanted to think about it. And then Keith was born and time passed and she said she would wait until he started asking about his daddy. And he did. He's two and a half now. Joyce mentioned last week that it was time."_

_Beverly took Daryl upstairs where Keith was playing in his room. Daryl's nerves were back. His heart was pounding. Beverly opened the door and went in first then stood aside and Daryl saw a little boy sitting on the floor. His first thought was the DNA test wouldn't be necessary. There was a picture back home of Daryl and Merle one Christmas when Daryl was three. Keith was almost identical._

_Beverly spoke to Keith. "Remember I said your daddy was coming? Here he is. His name is Daryl Dixon."_

_The little boy looked solemnly at Daryl then turned to his grandmother. "Where's Mommy?"_

_Beverly's eyes filled with tears. "She's gone to heaven, sweetie. Remember we talked about it?" She left the room and shut the door._

" _I didn't know I had a daddy," Keith said._

" _I didn't know I had a son." It was hard to swallow and Daryl's chest felt tight. "I guess we both got a surprise." Daryl sat down._

" _Grandma said I'm going to live with you."_

" _Yeah. It's a sad thing about your mama and it'll be a big change for you but I hope you'll like Georgia. I have a brother there. He's your Uncle Merle."_

" _Will Mommy visit?"_

" _No. She got hurt bad and can't be with you anymore. So she sent me to take care of you." It was all Daryl could think of to say. It seemed likely there would be similar conversations in the future. It was a lot for a little kid to take in and he didn't understand what death meant yet._

" _It's sunny and warm in Georgia most all the year. You can play outside without a coat." Looking out the window at the slushy street, this was the most encouraging thing Daryl could think of._

_They didn't talk for awhile but it wasn't a painful silence. Keith showed Daryl his toys. Daryl was already thinking of things he could make for his son. Beverly came back and they all went down and had supper but nobody ate much. Then it was Keith's bedtime. Beverly put him to bed and Daryl watched closely so he could remember what to do. The room had a twin bed and a crib. Beverly said they had moved in the twin bed in anticipation of switching Keith from crib to bed soon. Daryl could use the bed if he didn't mind sharing a room. Daryl didn't mind._

_Keith woke up in the night calling for his mama. He was tearful when Daryl explained once more. Daryl picked him up, realizing this was the first time he had held his son. He brought him into the bed and Keith settled back to sleep. Daryl didn't. Too much had happened in too short a time. He lay awake thinking until exhaustion took him._

_Daryl watched the morning ritual which was pretty much bedtime in reverse. After breakfast Beverly took Keith in to see his grandfather. Daryl went in later. He hadn't really known Joyce's parents but he remembered them vaguely. Her father was an old ill man now. He seemed comforted by Daryl's willingness to take his son. He died the next day and there was a double funeral for father and daughter two days later. Beverly's sister Barbara came up from Florida. Beverly would be selling the house in Chicago and moving in with her sister. After the bills were paid there would be just enough left to help Barbara with expenses. Daryl was relieved that she'd be so close to Georgia. He promised to bring Keith to visit._

_Joyce's father had a workshop in the basement where he used to putter around. There were a lot of good tools but Daryl got the impression it was a place used to get away instead of actually doing anything. While waiting for the old man to pass and then for the funerals to take place, Daryl had taken Keith down and made a few things from leftover wood stacked in a corner. The boy was fascinated by the machines and the resulting toys._

_Then it was time to pack up Keith's life. The essentials and a few changes of clothes would go with them on the flight home. Everything else would be shipped. The car seat went on the plane as well. Daryl had called Merle every day to report. At O'Hare Daryl discovered Merle had gotten a free seat for Keith under some child bereavement provision. Then they got upgraded because first class wasn't full and a man with a little boy and a car seat had priority. The flight attendants were all over Keith, and Daryl soon became aware of the advantages of traveling with a kid as cute as his son._

_Merle nodded when he met Keith. "He's a Dixon all right."_

_Keith was quiet and wide-eyed at sight of his big rough-looking uncle. He warmed up when Merle's first stop was a drive-thru for ice cream._

" _Bribery," Merle said as if imparting great wisdom. "Best way to go when dealing with kids."_

_Daryl had been worried about his fitness as a father. Now he was fearful of Merle's influence as an uncle. But he owed Merle big time for his support the past week. It was time to stop chasing dreams. After Keith was in bed that night, Daryl told his brother he'd get a full-time job._

" _You got a full-time job," Merle said. "At least until that kid is toilet trained. I ain't changing diapers."_

" _He's in pull-ups. Beverly said he was doing real well until Joyce died. That set him back a little."_

" _Well, you missed a lot. Better catch up while you can. You can start working for a living when he's in school."_

_Merle would never say right out that he had his brother's back but Daryl accepted the gesture for what it was. Merle had cultivated his image as a typical redneck over the years. There was plenty of truth to it but he exaggerated for effect. He got a kick out of being an uncle and could now add poor parenting to his inventory. Merle saw raising Keith as an opportunity to play good dad, bad dad, and Merle's choice was clear. He probably thought he was doing Daryl a favor so Keith's daddy would look better in comparison to his uncle. But Merle would never hurt his nephew, he just didn't think sugarcoating was necessary._

_When Keith was nine, Daryl overheard him ask Merle about his birth._

" _You were a mistake. Your mama and daddy had a good time at a party and didn't take precautions. But don't feel bad. You're proof mistakes ain't always a bad thing. You coming along spared me having to carry on the Dixon name."_

_Later Daryl told Merle he could have said Keith was a surprise instead of a mistake._

" _A baby is no surprise when you're drunk and careless. The only surprise was you bein' the daddy. I thought that thing of yours only worked around testosterone not estrogen."_

" _An accident then," Daryl suggested._

" _Nope. If protection failed, that's an accident. Don't worry, I told him it turned out good after all."_

_Meanwhile, Daryl continued his part-time job and bonded with his son while working in the shed. He made dinosaurs and spacecraft and armies of soldiers for Keith besides the abstract stuff that sold occasionally. Ironically it was the toys that first garnered attention for Daryl as an artist. Beverly's sister Barbara had run a gallery before retiring to Florida. She liked the toys Keith brought when he visited so she sent pictures to a woman she knew in Atlanta. Carol Peletier was interested enough to come and see them and was impressed with Daryl's abstract work as well. Suddenly Daryl had an agent. Carol suggested a good way to get publicity was by giving some of his work away instead of selling it. She showed the toys to a children's art museum and the museum wanted to display them. Daryl had to make new ones for the museum because Keith wasn't on board with giving away his toys. Daryl didn't mind. He wasn't going to deprive his son of the few things he was able to give him._

_The display did its work. A handcraft foundation asked that the toys be loaned to a traveling exhibition that would be touring the country. They included several of Daryl's abstract pieces. It snowballed after that. A woman tasked with finding a sculpture for the lobby of a new bank asked Daryl to submit a design. It didn't win but the bank bought two of his smaller pieces for other areas of the building. An insurance company wanted a sculpture for their front lawn. That time Daryl's design was chosen. It was a big installation. Daryl was getting noticed. His work was new and different and he had a knack for designing what people were looking for when they didn't know exactly what that was. His pieces were selling for more and more. Museums wanted to acquire a Dixon for display. Private collectors and art investors were interested. Keith had started school by then but there was no more talk of Daryl getting a full-time job._

_Daryl had taken Keith to visit his grandmother and great-aunt regularly. Barbara passed away when Keith was five and Beverly two years later. She'd been pleased with Daryl's success and he was glad she lived long enough to see him able to provide well for her grandson._

_Daryl's art turned into a family business. One day Merle said he had a line on some junk Daryl might like. He got it for free and Daryl used most of it. Merle started making regular road trips. His own creativity was limited to swearing and storytelling but he knew his brother and had an eye for what might inspire him. He would take off with a flatbed hitched to his truck and return with a load of shit that Daryl turned into art. Merle was shrewd enough not to let on he was collecting for Daryl whose name was becoming known. Daryl had paid Merle back as soon as he was able and bought him a big new truck which Merle only drove locally. On his road trips he took the old truck which ran fine but didn't look prosperous. Merle had set up his business as Bisbee Salvage, using his middle name which had been mama's maiden name. Old farm equipment rusting in a pasture, glass insulators from telephone companies, ceramic insulators from electric companies – they were all finds for Merle who, with an air of being taken advantage of, would reluctantly agree to haul it away for little or nothing. Sometimes people paid him to take stuff off their hands and helped him load it besides. Daryl got amazing raw material and Merle got a percentage of sales. The arrangement was satisfactory to both._

"What an incredible story," Glenn said. "I'm sorry Keith's mother died so young."

"It'll be ten years in October. Last year I had a show in Chicago and took him along. We went to the cemetery. They're all there – Joyce and her father, Beverly and Barbara. He doesn't remember his mama or granddaddy. He remembers Grandma Bev. And Aunt Barb a little."

"He had a lot of bad luck but good luck, too, with you and his uncle."

"Yeah, Merle stepped up for both of us."

Glenn 

Daryl doesn't tell Keith right away that we're seeing each other. We already feel very close so the possibility that it won't last isn't the reason. We want this time for us and besides, it could be awkward at school.

I see their home for the first time one weekend when Keith stays with Merle. The whole place is fantastic. It's a warehouse in an industrial district at the edge of Atlanta. Daryl gutted one end to make a three story workshop because he creates some really big pieces. They come apart in sections but he likes to see them put together before installation. The rest of the first floor is a showroom, conference room, business office, kitchenette and restrooms. There's an elevator and a staircase to the other floors.

Second floor is living quarters. The kitchen, living and dining areas are open with two bedrooms and bathrooms at one end and a master suite at the other – bedroom, bathroom and an office that Daryl never uses because Carol and his accountant take care of the paperwork. Third floor has a home theater, pool table, casino card table and arcade games. On the roof is a fire pit, grill and a covered patio. There's room to play basketball and a tent is set up in one corner. Keith is friends with Duane Jones and Principal Grimes' son Carl and they come over to spend the night and sleep outside. It's all enclosed by a 10 foot fence imbedded in the concrete of the roof. Daryl says if they go over that fence they deserve to fall and die. Despite all this, he isn't a typical conspicuous consumer. He bought the warehouse cheap and did a lot of the renovation himself and he makes most of their furniture.

Daryl makes good money now. I'm not going to get rich teaching and I worried about the difference in finances until I found out my grandmother left half her estate to my mom and the rest split between me and my sisters.

At winter break Daryl tells Keith about us. He knew his dad was seeing someone but he's surprised that it's his English teacher. He'll have two weeks to get used to the idea before seeing me when school starts again. Keith, Daryl and Merle spend Christmas together as usual. I go to Michigan to tell my family the news.

At spring break Daryl tells Keith I'll be moving in when the school year is over. He takes it well. During the summer he sees a picture of my cousin Haneul who is the same age as Keith and very cute. Her name means Heaven. We're going with my family to Korea next summer and Haneul wants to come to Atlanta for her junior year in high school. That fall Keith signs up for Korean foreign language. Daryl and I are nervous.

Daryl made a piece of art for me. It's on display in the showroom with pieces he made for Keith and Merle. He used old glass insulators from telegraph, telephone and electric lines. They were produced in lots of colors. He melts and shapes them. My piece is a pond with dark blue bottom and lighter blue over it to give an impression of depth. On top is a clear layer so you can see orange and lavender below. The fluid shapes suggest fish without actually looking like fish. A frog sits on a lily pad, a snake slithers through greenery and a bird perches on a stone. All these things are abstract but recognizable. I don't know how he does that. It might be worth $50,000 to a buyer but it's priceless to me.

Daryl made a private piece that he says expresses my airplane personality. It's also abstract but just looking at it, you can tell what it means. We keep that one in the bedroom.

Daryl

Keith had an allowance, Merle got commission and Glenn had his inheritance but you never knew what might happen in life and Daryl didn't want them to be in need so one day he sat them down and told them to come to him if they ever needed money.

"And if you don't want to ask, remember those pieces downstairs belong to you. I won't be offended if you want to sell 'em."

Keith and Glenn shook their heads and spoke together: "No way, Dad." "Absolutely not."

Merle's words were more graphic.

"I'd rather cut off my hand with a rusty hacksaw."

* * *

A/N: This is what I had in mind for the abstract pond Daryl created for Glenn.

  
GobsmackApplejack asked for the private piece. I was going to leave it to our  
imaginations, but I found this and I think it's close.

Found another one I like even more titled Constancy. Both are by sculptor John Brown.

  
 


	11. Limitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Limitation: restrictive weakness, lack of ability.
> 
> Glenn has a disability.

Daryl 

Merle and Daryl went to Cracker Barrel at noon. They usually packed sandwiches or hit a drive-thru for fast food but every so often treated themselves to a sit-down meal. As they ambled to the entrance Daryl noticed a young guy with a crutch attached to his left arm. He walked slowly, limping slightly. Daryl didn't want to stare but he peeked over his shoulder as he went in and saw that the kid was Asian. He was looking down, probably watching his step so he didn't trip, and Daryl took the opportunity for a longer look at smooth skin with a hint of tan, and straight black hair shining in the sun. Daryl would have held the door for him but the kid was just far enough away for it to be weird if he waited that long so he followed Merle in.

The Barrel was busy but the brothers got a table for four right away. It must have been the last one for awhile because behind them Daryl heard the hostess say it would be a 15 minute wait. Daryl glanced back when he was seated and saw the Asian limp away to lean against a counter.

"Hey, Merle." Daryl tipped his head toward the young man. "That kid can't stand very long. We got room."

Merle looked over. When the waitress took their drink orders, he said, "Tell the gimp he can eat with us if he wants to."

The young man smiled as he approached the table. "This is very nice of you. I appreciate it."

"Thank my brother, it was his idea. But I'm in favor. I got a woman always after me to be open to new experiences. Besides sexual, I mean. Now I can tell her I ate with a Chinaman."

"I'm Korean."

"Whatever. This will get Andrea off my back and onto hers."

"Charming," the kid said dryly. "How about introductions? I'm Glenn."

"Merle."

"Daryl."

"So what do you guys do?"

"We're Dixon Builders," Merle said.

"We do remodeling and construction," Daryl added. "What about you?"

"I'm at the university."

College boy. Daryl thought that fit. Glenn looked and sounded smart.

"How long you laid up?" Merle asked, nodding at Glenn's leg.

"I'm a lifer. It's a congenital deformity."

"What happened?" Daryl asked. He wasn't sure he should show interest in a delicate subject but Merle had already brought it up.

"My left leg didn't develop well. It's missing some muscle and nerves."

"Hurt a lot?" Merle asked.

"No. Aches a little when I get tired. It's just weaker than my right leg and always will be." Glenn sounded matter-of-fact, not pitiable. "It doesn't bother me much."

Conversation lagged when their food arrived until Glenn noticed Merle watching him work on a plate of salad and grilled chicken. Glenn glanced at Merle's plate piled with macaroni and cheese and potatoes and gravy. Merle never considered vegetables when picking side dishes.

"Let me guess, you're not much for rabbit food?"

"I'm for rabbit  _as_  food," Merle replied.

"Really? You hunt them?"

"Rabbits and a lot more."

"Well, I like fresh greens and I'm not as active as you guys. If I ate whatever I wanted I'd balloon up."

"Don't look like you have to worry about that," Daryl said. He shut up as he realized he just told this kid he was checking him out.

As they finished eating a young couple stopped at the table.

"Professor Rhee." "Hey, Professor."

"Hi Beth, Noah. I'll see you in a little while."

The girl and boy moved on. Glenn said, "I should go, too. I've got a class soon."

"I thought you were a student," Daryl said.

"I was. Now I teach."

"Teach what?" Merle asked.

"Philosophy."

"This gets better and better," Merle said. "Andrea ain't gonna believe it."

Daryl's heart sank. Bad enough when he thought the kid was young enough to be a student. Worse that he was a college level teacher. Daryl was a blue collar working man with no business being interested in a professor of philosophy.

They all left together. Outside, Glenn said, "It was nice meeting you. Thanks again for sharing."

"You got a special vehicle?" Merle asked. Merle never worried about delicate subjects.

"No, I'm lucky my bum leg is the left one. My right is fine to drive."

Merle looked disappointed. Daryl knew he would have liked to see a car with hand controls. Daryl watched Glenn walk to his car. He didn't limp badly, it was just a catch in his gait.

In the truck, Merle glanced at Daryl before driving off. "That's a dick-whipped look, Daryl. You hard for the cripple?"

"He's not really crippled," Daryl mumbled.

"Gets around okay," Merle agreed. "But you can't say he's all that steady on his feet. And you didn't answer my question."

"It's none of your business."

"That never stopped me before and I don't know why you think it would now. It says to me the answer is yes."

"I don't even know if he's gay."

"I bet he is. And I'd take that bet to Vegas."

"He's educated."

"There you go feeling inferior. You never heard that opposites attract?"

"Drop it, Merle."

"All right, but I don't wanna put up with any moods cause you ain't getting laid."

Glenn 

I met a real man today. That's what I thought when Daryl Dixon introduced himself. He was unshaven but I don't mean he needed a shave. Unshaven is a look that works very well for him. He's got brown hair and blue eyes, broad shoulders and the best arms I've ever seen. I tend to notice other people's upper body strength. My left arm is stronger than average from compensating for my much weaker left leg.

Daryl was wearing work pants, laced boots and a shirt with the sleeves cut off which displayed the shoulders and arms to advantage. He was with his brother who apparently likes making conversation he hopes will shock and offend. The Dixons work construction. That may be why I thought of him as a real man. I'm mostly around university people. The students aren't fully adult yet and the faculty members, like many academics, are talkers more than doers. At least in the philosophy department. I'm pretty sure Daryl is gay, which also explains my instinctive interest. Nothing could come of it of course. Daryl is probably uncomfortable with physical weakness. Although it was his idea to share their table. I hope he didn't feel sorry for me. I hate pity.

Daryl 

He couldn't stop thinking about Glenn and trying to figure out an excuse to see him again. At 35, Daryl was experienced enough to be pretty sure Glenn was gay. But that didn't mean he'd be interested in a guy who did manual labor. Daryl put it out of his mind for a few days but finally admitted to himself that he wasn't going to be satisfied until he got shot down. Which he fully expected to happen with the lame-ass reason he came up with to call. He called the university, asked for Glenn Rhee and was transferred.

"You've reached voicemail for Professor Rhee in the philosophy department. I have office hours on Tuesday and Thursday. I have classes Monday, Wednesday and Friday, but I check voicemail regularly. Leave a message and I'll get back to you."

Today was Wednesday. Daryl almost hung up, intending to call back the next day but then he thought it might be better this way. Glenn could ignore the message and Daryl could get on with his life. After waiting a few weeks in the hope that his call would be returned.

"Uh, this is Daryl Dixon. We met last week at Cracker Barrel. Wondered if I could buy you a drink sometime and you could explain philosophy to me. I understand if you're busy but if not, call me." Daryl left his cell number and hung up.

Glenn 

Daryl Dixon asked me out via voicemail. I'm intrigued and excited but also suspicious. Why would he be interested? I assume he's not looking for a faculty adviser to help him decide whether to go to college and study philosophy. So, does Daryl have a fetish for the physically challenged? Maybe it was a bet or a dare between him and Merle. I'm aware that this type of thing occurs. I'm 25 and I've only had two partners and neither of them was a man like Daryl. It may be a mistake but I can't resist. We'll have one date and that will probably be it.

We're going to meet at a pub just off the campus in Athens. If Daryl expects to fuck me tonight, it's over.

* * *

Daryl looks a little ill-at-ease in this upscale bar. It's mostly college kids and younger faculty members like me. He relaxes when we're on our own in a booth at the back.

"Do you really want to know about philosophy? Because we can talk about something else."

"I'd like to hear what you have to say. Never thought about it before and I don't know anything."

So I launch into a brief explanation of philosophy as the study of problems connected with existence, knowledge and reason, and I'm glad to see that Daryl's eyes don't glaze over. He doesn't ask any questions about philosophy when I finish a few minutes later but that's okay because instead he asks where I'm from.

We exchange the usual basic info. I tell him about growing up in Michigan with my sisters as first generation Americans of immigrant Korean parents. My disability was a fact of life they were completely accepting of but still, when it came time for college, I wanted to get away and be on my own. I also wanted to go south because warm weather is kinder on my leg and I don't have to worry about snow and ice.

I learn that Merle is Daryl's only sibling, their parents are dead and there's no other family. Reading between the lines, I suspect that daddy and mama weren't model parents and there was never much money. This makes the brothers' successful business all the more remarkable. Daryl tells me that Merle's girlfriend Andrea is a high powered attorney and partner in a law firm with Deanna Monroe who is a former congresswoman. Daryl sounds proud that his brother attracted such a woman. I'm amazed. Maybe Daryl and I will be together long enough for me to meet her.

As the evening winds down it's obvious that Daryl doesn't want to fuck me tonight. A few hours ago I was going to be mad if he did and now I'm disappointed. Well, not really. It's too soon even though this date went better than I thought it would.

Outside, before going to our separate cars Daryl asks, "You want to do this again sometime?"

He sounds hesitant and since he called me first, it's my turn to show this isn't one-sided.

"Yes, I would." I reach up and he puts an arm around me which helps my balance, and our first kiss is happening. It goes on for a bit and then it's over. It was a good kiss and it looks like Daryl thinks so, too. I was just nervous enough not to fully enjoy it but I'll be thinking about it later and looking forward to the next one.

As I walk away I look over my shoulder and Daryl is watching me. He lifts a hand to wave goodbye.

Our second date is even better with the tension and awkwardness of the first date and first kiss behind us. This time Daryl picks me up at my apartment. When he drops me off, we make out pretty seriously for awhile but Daryl doesn't suggest anything more intimate. I bet he thinks it should be my decision due to my disability. I'll have to make my feelings clear but I'm not sure the time is right yet.

Daryl 

Daryl always watched Glenn walk away, whether he was going to the bathroom, his car or his apartment. Glenn usually looked back and they waved. Tonight instead of waving he walked back to Daryl's truck and asked, "Does my limp bother you?"

He didn't sound mad but Daryl felt ashamed. "No! Sorry I've been staring."

"It's natural to be curious. I do walk funny."

"I wasn't looking at your limp. Not exactly." Daryl hesitated then admitted, "I was watching your ass move."

Glenn burst out laughing. "Really?"

Daryl reddened. "There's a little swing each step and I ... uh ... noticed."

"That's the best thing anyone has ever said to me." Glenn paused. "If you want to see my ass closer sometime, I'd be interested in seeing yours, too."

"Whenever you're ready for more than just looking."

Glenn 

Daryl's boxers are sliding down his hips and the legs look wider than they need to be. I wonder if he's lost weight recently. I get distracted by the bulge between his legs but when he pulls his boxers down I realize that he must buy a size larger to give him more room in the crotch. Daryl undressed is magnificent. Not just his cock although that is way out of the ordinary. He's hung like a can of beer – a tall one. Long and hard and big around, contents under pressure. Daryl's skin pales the further down my eyes travel. Face, neck and arms are tan and weathered. His chest and belly are lighter; presumably he doesn't always work shirtless outside. From the waist down he's not tan at all. It's a good thing he keeps his shirt on sometimes and his pants always. If he didn't there would be rioting in the streets.

He saw my eyes widen at sight of his cock and quietly tells me we aren't doing anal. I'm relieved but don't want to show it so I smile and say we'll save it for another time.

I'm always anxious about undressing the first time with someone new. My leg isn't deformed but it is withered. The bone developed so the length is okay but it looks shrunken due to lack of muscle. Daryl doesn't avoid looking at my leg.

"What do you think – gross?"

"Naw. Not sure what I expected but it's fine. Just thinner."

I appreciate honesty and I'm relieved that my leg doesn't seem to bother him. Daryl has a worry of his own:

"I don't wanna hurt you. You gotta tell me what you can or can't do."

I'm used to managing my leg. It's mostly a matter of keeping it out of the way. My partner has to do more because it's not easy for me to move around but I try to make it worthwhile with my mouth and hands. Daryl rubs his cock against me. Soon it's stiff enough that he doesn't have to hold it. It sticks out and up and his hands are free to explore the rest of my body that his cock can't reach. My mouth and tongue are on his face and neck and my hands on his cock. I can barely get one hand around it. We're too excited to last long. Daryl rolls on his back, lifts me over him and we settle face to face. He pushes his cock into the crease of my right thigh. I did not know that was such an erogenous zone. Our cocks are pressed together and moving our hips provides the friction to send us over the edge pretty quickly.

Daryl 

Daryl had been afraid he might forget himself in the heat of the moment and do something to hurt Glenn's leg but it turned out to be not a big deal after all. Daryl didn't mind the limitation it imposed. With twenty years of experience behind him, he knew gymnastics didn't make sex better. It used to be fun and often exciting but in the end Daryl was a man of simple needs. At the final moment, fulfillment was achieved by the tried-and-true not the exotic. He'd felt unadventurous at times since those early days but now it paid off by suiting him to Glenn. His dick was bigger than it needed to be but he was used to it and proud to be endowed although he never said so out loud. Daryl's job had made him appreciate tactile sensations. He liked touching what he worked on – a wall, a roof, a railing. Running his hands over Glenn's body was even better, exploring every curve and crevice.

They were getting together more often now and Daryl was falling hard. He worried at first that he wasn't educated enough but Glenn never showed any sign and they always seemed to have plenty to talk about. He looked forward to telling Glenn about funny or interesting things that happened on the job and Glenn did the same with his classes. Daryl had also wondered if he would mind that Glenn couldn't go hunting with him but he figured the kid didn't care for hunting anyway. Daryl had his brother to hunt with and Glenn had university friends to talk academics with. Being together didn't mean they had to share every moment.

Glenn 

I'm in love with Daryl Dixon, and I'm going to break up with him tonight.

Not because I want to but because it's the best thing for him. I started thinking about what happened with Scott and I don't want that for Daryl. My leg doesn't bother him now but he doesn't understand what it means for the future. I'm not very disabled and I am very independent. If my limitation was more obvious or grotesque it would be clear what was in store for my partner but with me, it's the accumulation of little things over time. I can't dance or run or even walk fast. Anything involving my leg takes longer. It doesn't seem like a big deal at first but after a while the average person gets tired of accommodating me. I'm tired of it myself but I'm also used to it and resigned to it. Daryl is so strong and active. I don't want his life slowed down to match my pace.

I'll never know or want another man like Daryl. I'll never love another man as much but this is the right thing to do and I need to do it before I get in any deeper and can't.

* * *

"Daryl, this has been fun but it's time to step back. We're not right for each other."

"What?" Daryl sounds stunned.

I keep my voice steady and force my eyes to meet his. He looks bewildered. But he doesn't argue with me. I don't think it's because he doesn't care. More likely it's a shock and he doesn't know what to say.

Doing the right thing should feel better than this. The sense of loss doesn't go away. I feel worse two days later from sleeping badly and thinking about Daryl.

Daryl 

Daryl felt like a zombie stumbling around aimlessly. Merle might do the same if he imbibed a little too freely on a work night but on those occasions Daryl kept his mouth shut. Merle didn't extend the same courtesy. He took one look and asked what was wrong.

"Glenn broke up with me last night."

Typically, Merle's next question was, "What'd you do to him?"

"I don't know."

"Musta been something."

"He didn't say."

"You shoulda asked. Maybe you could fix it. If not, at least you'd know what not to do next time."

Daryl didn't say it but he knew there wouldn't be a next time. Glenn was the one for him. But Daryl wasn't the one for Glenn. Maybe Glenn felt that he was settling by being with Daryl.

The Dixon brothers had grown up hard scrabble but their personalities took opposite turns. Merle was an extrovert, brash confidence and crude humor hiding a better heart than he wanted to admit. Daryl had turned inward instead, probably a reaction to being gay as well as his rough childhood. It was his nature not to pursue too hard something he wanted. It would lessen misery when he didn't get it.

But he thought about it another day and decided Merle was right. Daryl deserved an explanation. Even if he couldn't make it right at least he'd know the reason.

Glenn 

Aaron is in my office this afternoon discussing the summer schedule when Daryl comes in without knocking. He looks like I feel but also determined. There may be trouble. Aaron starts to say, "Excuse me, this is a private meeting ..." but Daryl cuts him off.

"Leave. Now." He pauses then adds, "Please."

Aaron turns to me.

"Sorry about this. Can we finish later?" I ask.

He nods. "Will you be all right?"

"I'll be fine. Thank you."

Aaron leaves the door open when he leaves but Daryl closes it again.

"That wasn't right, you calling it quits and not saying what I did wrong."

"You didn't do anything wrong, Daryl."

"Then you were just messing around with me all this time?"

"It was getting serious and I don't want to hold you back."

" _You_  hold  _me_  back? I get it now. I'm holding you back."

"No, Daryl, it's my leg. You've been great putting up with it but ..."

Daryl interrupts angrily. "I'm not putting up with it, it's just part of you. You put up with me not having good grammar or table manners or going to college."

"Those things aren't important. My leg won't ever be better and it may deteriorate. I could end up in a wheelchair."

"I'll build a ramp. Widen the doorways."

"Wheelchairs are streamlined nowadays. The doorways should be fine."

"Just the ramp then," Daryl says doggedly. "And grab bars in the bathroom."

"You're serious." I was glib about the doorways, thinking that Daryl was joking about handicap access and I was glad that he was lightening up. But he was thinking about us long-term.

"I don't know what else to do to show I love you."

We've never used the L word. I believe him. Daryl looks and sounds desperate and I'm suddenly appalled at how I've hurt this man by trying to protect him. What right did I have to decide he couldn't handle my disability? I was probably protecting myself from a time when Daryl might leave because he didn't want to be tied to me.

"I'm sorry," I say to Daryl, and watch his shoulders sag with relief. Then he sighs and closes his eyes and I realize it's despair not relief. He thinks I'm apologizing about having to reject him!

"No, Daryl, I mean I'm sorry I pushed you away. I thought it was best for both of us but I was wrong."

Daryl looks up, hopeful again. "You'll take a chance on me?"

"I won't be taking a chance. You're a sure thing. I love you, too."

"Construction can be dangerous. I might be the one in a wheelchair. Or I could get sick."

I stare at him, afraid. I'm so used to thinking of myself as the weak link that I forgot accidents and illness happen to everyone. "Now I'm going to worry about you. A lot."

"Good. Give you something to think about besides your own damn leg. Now, who's Aaron?"

"Dr. Aaron Marquand, head of the philosophy department. My boss."

"Isn't he young for that?"

"Yes. The former head, Dale Horvath, who was my mentor, died unexpectedly last year."

"So there's nothing personal with this Aaron?"

"He's a friend and he's gay but he's happy with Eric. They've been together several years."

"Am I gonna get you fired?"

"Aaron will understand."

"I could apologize."

"That would be a nice gesture."

"I'll do it on my way out. We really okay now? We're gonna be together?"

"If you're sure."

"I've been sure. You're the one tried to dump my ass. You need to be sure."

"I'm sure now."

"Good. Will I see you tonight?"

"Seven at my place?"

"I'll be there." Daryl leans over to kiss me and ends up squatting by my chair because the kiss goes on longer than expected.

* * *

That night Daryl sets the table then watches while I make dinner. "We got a good division of labor going on. You like to cook and I like to eat."

"And you don't mind cleaning up."

"Least I can do."

"I like to talk and you're willing to listen."

"I should tell you I'm not always listening. Sometimes I'm thinking about other things you do with your mouth besides talking."

I open my mouth and run my tongue around my lips. Daryl smiles.

"There are differences, too," he says. "You eat lunch and dinner, I eat dinner and supper.

"But we both eat breakfast."

"You make love, I have sex."

"Let's compromise and say we both like to fuck."

"Don't start the dirty talk if you want to have 'dinner'."

"I can put 'supper' on low for an hour."

* * *

In bed I tell Daryl we should do something we haven't tried yet – anal – but he refuses. "It would take too long and we're both about to bust."

It's true. It's only five days since the last time but we're very ready. The skin of Daryl's swollen shaft is stretched so tight it's smooth and shiny and I can see blood pulsing beneath the surface.

Afterwards I ask if Daryl has done anal.

"Yeah, a few times but it wasn't so great for anybody involved. My dick likes to be squeezed but not strangled."

"Can I ask how many partners you've had?"

"Four before you. One was a woman."

"How was that?"

"You've never tried a girl?"

"No. I know I'm gay and I've never been curious."

"You're not missing anything. Once was enough for me. What about the guys you've been with?"

"There have been two and they're part of the reason I tried to break it off with you."

I tell Daryl about sophomore year when a guy in my class asked me out. We went to bed on our first date. He wasn't put off by my leg and I didn't want to be a virgin any longer so all was good. On our second date he was more interested in my leg than me or the sex and when I called him on it he got defensive but finally admitted he and some friends were curious about doing the disabled and Troy volunteered to find out.

Daryl says, "Shitty little bastard!" under his breath.

"Three years ago in grad school I met Scott. I thought it could turn into something. My leg didn't bother him either. I really liked him and he liked me, too. But not enough to stick around after the reality of being with me set in.

This time Daryl mutters, "What a weak fucker!"

"Then you came along and your reaction was exactly right. No unhealthy interest but no avoidance either. It got better and better between us. But I started thinking that you didn't know what you were letting yourself in for. I thought it would be selfish of me to hold on to you. Or even worse, I hated thinking someday you might feel trapped but you wouldn't leave. I know how loyal you are."

"Now I see the problem. You been saying 'I think this' and 'I thought that'. You think too much." Daryl paused. "You want me to look up Troy and Scott and make them sorry for how they acted? I could make them regret they were ever born."

"No, I'm grateful to them now. And you should be, too."

"How's that?"

"What if they had been better people? I might have ended up with one of them. Probably Scott because Troy and I were only 20 and that's too young. But what if I was with Scott when we met?"

"It would have been my pleasure to take you away from him."

Daryl 

Two years later Glenn published a book,  _Philosophy and Sophistry_ , which became a bestseller and was acclaimed by critics and readers alike. The style was simple and fresh and it was in Glenn's unique voice. He did the circuit of radio and TV shows and was a hit. He was the new young face of philosophy. And that was before the public learned he had a physical challenge and was gay. When asked why those topics weren't included, he said he was saving them for the next book.

Daryl was proud of Glenn and his accomplishments but that didn't stop him grumbling about attention that came his way.

"Years back, instead of trying to give me up for my own good, you should have told me you were gonna be famous. I'd have run out fast."

"That's always an option."

"Not anymore," Daryl said glumly. "I got used to having you around and can't give it up."

"I know what you got used to and you could get it from anyone."

"There is that," Daryl agreed. "But it wouldn't be the same with anybody else so I'm stuck."

He had already resigned himself to faculty functions. Now he gave in with fairly good grace to the occasional public appearance. Folks were mostly interested in Glenn but there were times that Daryl was expected to show up.

Glenn 

Daryl and I bought a house together. It's near campus and on the edge of the historic district. The edge because our house is only a century old and most of the historic district is 150 years plus. Normally we wouldn't have been able to afford this location even with money from the book but we got a good deal because it needs some work. A lot of work actually. I told Daryl I would buy the house but it would be in both our names because his share would be fixing it up. He refused, saying he'd pay his half, until he saw the place.

"So you're not with me for the sex, it's because I'm in construction." He looked around, shaking his head. "What a dump."

But I could tell he was interested. He went over the whole house and then called his brother to come and check it out. Merle was as daunted as Daryl at the amount of work that would be involved but he perked up at the idea of the house being listed in the historic register as restored by Dixon Builders. Andrea loved it, too, and told Merle it was time for them to trade up. They eventually bought another fixer-upper a few blocks away. Andrea did the same thing I did and bought the house in both their names since she makes big bucks as a lawyer. While Daryl and Merle did their part, Andrea and I planned the decorating from paint and paper to fixtures and furnishings. Daryl's and my home includes something Merle's and Andrea's doesn't: an elevator. The front stairs are wide and curving with a carved banister. The servant staircase at the back of the house was winding, steep and dark. The brothers ripped it out and built an elevator shaft.

Restoring old homes is different from renovating to modern. The idea is to preserve original work as much as possible and recreate it when necessary. Daryl and Merle studied up on plaster, mortar, joints, tuckpointing and slate roofing. Dixon Builders got a lot of work through their experience on our houses.

* * *

I wake in the middle of the night to pin pricks in my bad leg. It quickly worsens to knife jabs and then my whole leg feels like it's on fire. The pain literally takes my breath away. I can't help crying which doesn't help my breathing and results in gasping sobs. That's when Daryl wakes up. Nothing like this has happened before so I don't know if or when it will pass and Daryl isn't willing to wait. He doesn't call 911. He just picks me up, carries me to his truck and drives like hell to the emergency entrance of the hospital that is normally ten minutes away. It feels like an hour but later I learn he made it in six minutes.

I'm given a shot for immediate pain relief and taken to imaging. After that I have an IV to keep the pain controlled and it also makes me sleepy. Daryl is in a chair by the bed when I wake up. He looks haggard.

"Just so you know, this is the kind of thing I was trying to spare you when I broke up with you years ago."

"The only thing worse than being with you for this would have been not being here." Daryl gets up and leans in for a kiss.

"My mouth is dry and I'm sure my breath is terrible."

"I went out for a cigarette so I'm no better. Pucker up and kiss the ashtray."

Daryl tastes smoky but not stale. He doesn't smoke a lot, just a few a week. Sometimes we pass a joint around when we get together with Andrea and Merle.

The doctor comes in while Daryl is giving me water.

"The good news is your pictures show nothing abnormal. No spots, not even a suspicious shadow. And all levels of your blood work are well within normal ranges."

"What's the bad news?"

"I'm not sure what happened. My theory is that the nerves in your left leg became inflamed. I'm prescribing a short course of steroids to reduce the inflammation, Flexeril to keep your leg muscles relaxed and Vicodin for pain."

"What caused the inflammation?"

"I don't know. It could be spontaneous as a result of deterioration in your leg although there's no sign of that when comparing to previous images. Have you strained your leg lately? Fallen or twisted it or hurt it in any way?"

I shake my head.

"Well, we'll hope this is a singular incident. If it does recur, we should know more after the second time."

"When can I go home?"

"Now, if you wish. But start your meds right away. Stay off your feet today and see how you feel tomorrow."

A nurse comes in and unhooks the IV and Daryl helps me dress. We pick up the prescriptions on the way home. The combination of pills knocks me out again.

It's early afternoon when I wake up. Daryl brings me lunch. He had called Aaron who cancelled my Thursday office hours and told Daryl I wasn't to worry about Friday classes. But I'm feeling pretty good now and expect to be better tomorrow. Andrea and Merle stop by in the evening.

I feel fine in the morning but Daryl doesn't want me to drive so he drops me at the university and gets me settled in the lecture hall. He perches on the edge of my desk and looks around and I know what he's thinking. We've had sex in my campus office and at the university pool which is about the only exercise I can do, but we've never done it in a classroom.

He says, "Wasted opportunity" but he's smiling.

"We can keep it on our bucket list."

He nods. "Last thing we'll do before you retire. What can they do if we get caught then – fire you?"

He kisses me before he leaves. A couple of early arrivals wander in as he straightens up. They watch Daryl walk out and I'm pretty sure they saw us. They also heard about my medical emergency so they come to my desk and ask how I'm doing. The first few minutes of each class is spent explaining what happened. Daryl shows up just before the last class ends and stands at the back waiting for me to finish. The faculty knows Daryl but the students don't. Some of the girls are eyeing him even though most everyone knows I'm gay. They're probably thinking 'wasted opportunity' like Daryl did that morning. I like showing Daryl off.

* * *

The leg incident doesn't recur. I resume work on my next book,  _Philosophy and Physicality_ , which is published the following year and is as popular as the first but for different reasons. Merle skims it with glee, looking for the trashy parts, and discovers that physicality isn't my euphemism for sex. I discuss my disability and homosexuality but not in the salacious detail Merle hoped for. He's disappointed that there isn't anything embarrassing about his brother.

The longer Daryl and I are together the more I appreciate just being with him, starting and ending each day together. Daryl feels the same although we rarely talk about it. I know his pleasure and satisfaction because they mirror my own. And it's not contingent on whether we have sex that day or not.

But we usually do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used the beer can reference because of this quote from NR:  
> "When I first did the Prada ad campaign, I did a few interviews. In my first one, the woman started off with something like she heard I'm 'hung like a beer can.' I thought that was pretty funny."


	12. Complication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Complication: unexpected problem or difficulty.
> 
> Daryl thinks he's straight until he meets Glenn.

Daryl

You're out of place at this museum. You don't 'get' art – paintings, sculptures, dishes, anything like that. You and Merle have some old furniture but you use it, it's not sitting around to be looked at like antiques.

You're here tonight with Trish, your first real girlfriend at the age of 30. She's 23. You've been with two other girls but that was just sleeping together a couple of times and each lasted a month. You and Trish have known each other four months and been to bed three times and if you're being honest, it's not that good although Trish seems to think it's fine. Nothing really wrong but it doesn't feel like you think it should. It was the same with the other two. It makes you uneasy that you don't enjoy fucking very much. You like getting blown more than straight sex.

You finish your second scotch and decide not to have another. You're not a mean or sloppy drunk but you don't want to chance embarrassing Trish. She's mingling, laughing and chatting with folks. She's in a different class and you wonder if she took to you because you're different from the guys she's usually with. She introduced you around when you arrived and you spent some painful moments making small talk before stepping away for the second scotch. You're in the event room of this small private museum. Hors d'oeuvres are being passed, sweet and savory dessert stuff since this is an after-dinner affair, and there's a bar in the corner. No one seems to be visiting the art galleries on either side. They've probably seen it all before. Food and drink aren't allowed in there.

Trish comes over looking worried because you're on your own and asks if you want another drink.

"Maybe later. Think I'll look around."

"Of course! You haven't been here before." She sounds relieved that you have something to do.

You escape to the Grace Gallery. It's cool and quiet and dim, probably environmentally controlled for the good of the things on display. Motion lights activate as you approach paintings and encased exhibits. There's a glow from behind a partition dividing the room so someone else must be in here. You step around to find an Asian man looking at a painting that fills the wall. He's young and slim, a good-looking kid with slanted eyes and straight black hair. Something tightens in your chest. Indigestion? The kid smiles and makes room for you to stand beside him. You relax and look up at the painting. It's a mostly naked woman with her back to you, looking in a mirror. Her dress is draped low on her ass.

"Crack of dawn" pops out before your internal governor kicks in. The kid bursts out laughing. You smile at his enjoyment, glad that he's not mad about you mocking Great Art.

"I'm Glenn Rhee."

"Daryl Dixon."

"Have you been here before?"

"Nope."

"May I show you around?"

"Sure. I probably won't appreciate it like I should but I'd like to take a look."

"Art appreciation is a matter of individual taste. This is  _Venus at Her Toilette_  by Veronese."

You wander along, Glenn pointing out paintings and you making comments that amuse him. He stops at Wtewael's  _Repentant Magdalen_  and says, "I think I know what you'll say about this one."  


 

"If she's repenting being a prostitute, showing her nipple is sending mixed signals."

"I knew it. I've thought that myself."

 _Sacred Conversation_  by Mansueti includes a heavy-lidded, bearded John the Baptist that reminds you of Stallone in Rocky 4.

At the end of the gallery you pass into a small room with a portrait of a man in a suit from 40 years ago. There's another portrait of a woman and a little girl.

"This is the Founder's Room. Philip Blake was a fascinating figure and a tragic one. Power corrupted him as it so often does. He was mayor of the city of Woodbury. He fancied himself made for better things and ran for Governor of Georgia. Unsuccessfully. He was bitter after the defeat and then his wife was killed in an accident that left their only child brain dead. He was unhinged by grief and kept her alive on machines for years in a persistent vegetative state. Doctors advised him to let her go but he wouldn't. The girl's private nurse finally turned off the machines. I'm not saying she was right to take matters into her own hands but it must have been hard to care for a little girl in that state with no hope of getting better. Blake attacked her when he discovered his daughter was dead. The nurse blinded him in one eye defending herself. He was probably clinically insane after that but he was still mayor. He basically terrorized Woodbury until the townspeople killed him. Nobody was charged and there were no witnesses but everyone knew what had happened."

"I heard something about that but it happened before I was born. I never knew the story."

"Blake began acquiring art after his wife died. He endowed the Blake Collection in his will. Woodbury refused to house it so that's why it's in Atlanta. The gallery we just left was named for his wife. Here on the other side is the Penny Gallery named for their daughter."

There are Native American artifacts and paintings of the Old West and you're more interested in this stuff. Eventually you and Glenn circle back around to the event room. Things are wrapping up. People are coming towards you. Or rather to Glenn. He's smiling and shaking hands and saying good night. Trish comes up to thank him then tells you she'll meet you at the front door in a few minutes.

"You're with Trish?" Glenn's voice is neutral but you sense disappointment.

"Yeah. Who are you? Besides Glenn Rhee."

"I'm curator of the Blake Collection. It's one of the things to do with a masters in art history and museum studies." He pauses. "I'm glad we met, Daryl. I wish we had more time together."

"Maybe some other time."

"I don't think Trish would like that."

"A man can have friends."

Glenn frowns slightly. "I'm gay, Daryl. And while I would like to be friends, I'm afraid I'd be hoping for more."

You stop your mouth from falling open but you can't control the blood in your face although you aren't sure if you went white or red. Glenn moves away and you go find Trish. She's saying good night to her parents. You dutifully kiss mother's cheek and shake father's hand and thank them for dinner before the museum. You're sure they don't approve of you but they've always been polite. Probably figure their daughter will get over it faster if they don't make an issue of your relationship.

Glenn

The most attractive man I've ever met is straight and taken. A double disappointment because I really thought Daryl Dixon was gay as we made our way through the Blake Collection. He looked terrific: blue eyes framed by brown hair, a wispy beard that drew my eyes to his mouth and a gray dress shirt that I resented for covering up his shoulders and arms. His personality is as good as the package. A little shy at first but fun. I've never talked so easily with anyone on first acquaintance.

Then I found out he's dating Trish Howell who perpetuates the stereotype of dumb blonde. Okay, not dumb, just a little dim. And she seems prissy. Or maybe I don't like to think of her and Daryl fucking.

Daryl

Trish is bubbly on the way to her car. She hands you the keys. She prefers the man to drive if she's being escorted. She likes that you own a truck but has only ridden in it twice. Both times she was wearing designer jeans and fancy boots and took you to a rodeo and a barbecue. You also have a motorcycle that she rode once and hated because the helmet made her hair flat and sweaty. So you usually drive her little Mercedes Benz which was a college graduation gift from her parents to replace the earlier model when she turned 16.

At Trish's apartment, in a building her father owns, she assumes you're coming in so you do. She kisses you as soon as the door closes which is her signal that sex is going to take place. You strip in the guest bathroom and wash yourself and get to the bedroom before she's out of her bathroom. When she emerges she's still wearing a lacy matching bra and thong and her hair is tied back. Trish doesn't like it to get messy.

She rubs your dick for a minute then kneels and puts her mouth on your knob which is all she ever takes in. You've heard her in the bathroom gagging on toothpaste while brushing her teeth. A whole dick in her mouth might make her throw up. She sucks a few times and gives you a lick then goes back to rubbing until you come. Trish doesn't spit or swallow. You start to slide her thong off, intending to finger her but she kisses you and whispers, "That's sweet but tonight is for you. I'm already sleepy."

She curls up and you obediently spoon her. As your mind drifts you wonder what getting blown by a guy would feel like. Better than Trish no doubt. Glenn would be familiar with the equipment. Your dick starts to stiffen. Trish doesn't even touch your balls. And what about spooning like this with a man? Your dick jumps against the crease in Trish's butt. She doesn't react. You can tell by her breathing that she's asleep. With Glenn you could push down that crease and into a tight channel. Plenty of lube first. Anal is out of the question with Trish. She doesn't even want to try doggie style. Missionary position once a month is her routine.

You need to come again. You can't hump Trish's hip and you don't want a quick jerk in the guest bathroom. Trish is used to you getting up early when you stay over. If she sleeps soundly straight through she might think you left for work just before she woke up. You ease out of bed and silently make your way to the guest bathroom. Five minutes later you're dressed and driving your truck away.

At home you strip again and head for bed, your dick leading by about seven inches. There's lube in the nightstand drawer but you don't need it because of pre-come. Your underwear was damp when you pulled it off. You're lucky it didn't soak through to your dress pants.

You can't get the idea of gay sex out of your head and you don't hate Glenn for putting it there. It's his mouth your hand mimics on your dick. You pull out in time to jizz all over his face.

In the morning you wake up hard again. You pull your meat in the shower and this time imagine shooting in Glenn's mouth and watching his Adam's apple bob as he swallows.

You and Merle exit your rooms at the same time. There are two bedrooms, each with a small bathroom. A decent sized area with a couple of sofas, a TV and a desk and laptop for paperwork plus a small kitchenette with a counter and stools completes the living quarters. It's not a full kitchen and dining room because you cook and eat downstairs in the café you and your brother have owned and operated for eight years. Before that you farmed with Daddy who died ten years ago. Mama had kept the books but she died three years before Daddy who wasn't much of a manager but didn't want to admit it so he left things in enough of a mess that you and Merle sold up before you lost the land. It turned out to be a good decision because you both like cooking more than farming and the café does well in a modest way.

You took over cooking when Mama died because that's something else Daddy wasn't good at. Merle was doing a stint in the army at the time and had his share of kitchen patrol. More than his share because he had trouble with insubordination and was always being assigned to the kitchen for disciplinary infractions. He didn't mind. Merle spent his tour between the ordnance depot and the mess hall.

You and Merle go downstairs to get ready for breakfast. By the time Dixie Kitchen opens at seven, the coffee is hot, grits are simmering on the stove and biscuits are fresh from the oven and ready to be covered in sausage gravy. Morning regulars wander in, many are blue collar but there are some suited business types as well. Grimes and Walsh are in uniform, having a bite before their shift. Breakfast clientele tends to be mostly men with just a sprinkling of women. Lunch is more evenly divided between the sexes. You're closed evenings and Sundays unless there's a private party.

By nine there are only occasional customers so you and Merle relax for a few minutes with coffee and breakfast leftovers before getting ready for the lunch crowd.

"How was your night at the museum? Personally I'd rather watch them Ben Stiller movies."

"It was real good."

"You got your culture on now?"

"The curator showed me around, an Asian kid. Knows about everything in there."

"I suppose he would. How old is he?"

"Mid-twenties. Little younger than me."

"Huh. You break up with Trish yet?"

"No. Why would I?"

"Because it's been four months and you're prob'ly tired of fucking her. Better end it before you go after the Asian."

Merle must have misread something in your face and voice.

"I'm not ... I never ... Glenn is ..."

"You're not gay? You never fucked a dude? Glenn is just a friend? That what you're trying to tell me? Daryl, I'd say it's time to straighten out but straight isn't the word. You're queer. You don't know it?"

Merle is sharp, no use lying to him or yourself. "I thought about it once or twice."

"Never did anything about it? No circle jerks at summer camp?"

You flush. Merle cackles. "Me, too. But then I snuck across the lake to the girls' camp and fooled around with them. You didn't. Playing with a weenie stuck."

"Did not. I've been with girls besides Trish."

"Didn't last long."

"Just thinking about it doesn't mean a man is gay."

Merle shrugs. "Maybe not."

You dismiss the conversation because Merle has always liked to push your buttons about something or other. But after closing at three and cleaning up the café you don't have work to occupy your mind and thoughts chase each other through your head. Merle has made comments about your sexual preference before but he talks a load of shit on a variety of subjects and you didn't take it seriously. This time he came right out with it. And last night Glenn Rhee must have seen something in you. Even on short acquaintance he doesn't seem like the kind to hit on random het men in the hope of finding somebody who happens to be having a sexual crisis. That behavior could get you hurt bad anywhere but especially in the south.

And what about Trish? The past four months you wondered if she was rebelling against her good girl upbringing by being with you. Now you wonder why you're with her. Truth is you knew it wouldn't last but you figured it would be good for you to see how the other half lives and maybe you'd learn something about fitting in with other folks.

You never made the first move with a girl. You never wanted to get married or have kids. It occurs to you that you couldn't picture a girl in that scenario with you. It's not just her face and hair that didn't fill in, the whole person was a blank space. You couldn't imagine a girl and wouldn't let yourself think of a man.

You're gay. You don't think it was denial exactly all these years. It's more like you never met anybody to make you question it until now.

This is a hell of a complication in your life.

But is it really? The more you consider, the simpler it seems.

You take a couple of days to think but once you decide, you aren't one to dally. Trish called earlier wanting to go out to dinner. When you get to her place, you ask to come in and talk. You give her the 'It's not you, it's me' speech. She asks if there's someone else and you say no because it's true though you hope there will be somebody soon. You don't tell her you just figured out you're gay because that's an insult not necessary to deliver.

Trish takes the break up well although she looks surprised. Maybe it's the first time a guy broke up with her. She probably expected to be the one to call a halt between you. But she doesn't seem to mind and you don't think she's faking indifference. Nothing very bad has ever happened to her and if it does she might not feel it too deep.

You have an idea of what her future holds. One of her sorority sisters will introduce her to a brother or cousin and they'll get engaged. Trish and her mother will plan an expensive wedding and a honeymoon someplace like Aruba. There'll be a big house and a couple of kids eventually. Rinse and repeat every generation. Years from now if her daughter takes up with a wild boy or her son gets involved with an unsuitable girl, Trish might remember her fling with a redneck when she was young.

You're disentangled from Trish but suddenly nervous about the next step so you wait a couple more days before going to see Glenn Rhee.

Glenn

I've been feeling a little down for almost a week which is unusual for me. I wish I was nursing a cold but it started Friday after meeting Daryl Dixon and learning he's out of my reach so my self-diagnosis is lovesick. I need to stop thinking about him. Which is going to be difficult because he just walked into the museum. He's dressed down today in work pants, laced boots and a white tee shirt but looks as good as last time. I take him back to my office where Daryl has trouble getting started.

"What made you … Why did you … Were you interested for no reason or did you think I was gay?"

"I was interested for good reasons. I liked you right away. It was fun wandering around the museum. You're very attractive. And yes, I thought you might be gay."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure now. It's not an exact science. Obviously I can be wrong. I guess I felt a connection. Wishful thinking I suppose."

"The thing is, maybe I am."

"Why do you think so?"

"I been thinking about you ever since."

"Me or the situation? Because a guy making a pass would be something to think about whether you're straight or gay."

"It's not just that, I been thinking stuff about myself and Trish and other girls I've known. And about what it would be like with a guy … with you."

"So you want to … explore? Experiment?"

"Yeah."

"Are you still with Trish?"

"I broke up with her."

"Wow. You really mean this."

"I never been this off balance about someone before. Or sex in general."

"We should get to know each other. I don't even know what you do."

"My brother and me run a little café."

"You cook!"

"Men do cook," Daryl says defensively.

"Of course, that's not what I meant. It's great that you cook because I don't. I order pizza or make reservations."

"You looking for somebody handy in the kitchen so you don't have to eat out all the time?"

"It's definitely a plus but I bet you're useful in rooms besides the kitchen."

"Is this flirting?"

"Yes. You weren't sure?"

"Never done it before."

"With a guy?"

"Guy or girl. Don't really know how."

"You're doing fine. You like it?"

"Yeah."

"Me, too. What's your restaurant called?"

"Dixie Kitchen. It's more of a hole in the wall but we do okay."

"I like the name. Do you cater?"

"Mostly for private parties at the Kitchen. We're only open for breakfast and lunch. Closed evenings."

"As you know, we have events here for private showings. Appetizers and mini desserts. Could you do that?"

"I guess so. But we don't do dainty or fancy much."

"A farmer's co-op is coming to Atlanta next month. Spouses included. The women want to see something besides grain storage. The men will enjoy it more if there's real food."

Daryl looks pleased and says he'll talk to his brother. I feel better than I have for a week.

"Would you like to come to my place tonight? I'll order in."

"I'll bring dinner," Daryl says firmly.

He shows up with a pimento cheese and bacon pizza that tastes like the southern flavors I love. Daryl says his brother makes one just as good with tortilla dough and pulled pork. Over pizza he tells me about his brother Merle and their parents, and I tell him about my family back in Michigan. Daryl and Merle started their café the same year I came to Georgia.

We talk and laugh easily, as we did at the museum. I remember Daryl saying a man could have friends and my reply that I'd like that but would be hoping for more. Looking at each other, we both know there will be more soon but it's nice to be friends first.

Daryl

A few days later Glenn asks what you were thinking about him after you met. You tell him your blowjob fantasies and he says it will be his pleasure to make them happen. It feels like the pleasure is all yours so you're happy to return the favor and watch his enjoyment.

He tells you he prefers to bottom and hopes you're a top. You confess your other fantasy while spooning Trish and that one comes true, too. The uneasy feelings of sex with girls are gone. More proof that this isn't the complication you first thought it would be.

Glenn

Daryl invites me to his place for our second night together. The Dixie Kitchen on the first floor is dark except for a light over one booth. It's fairly small. Booths line the walls with tables in the middle. The kitchen is at the back with a pass-through window and a swing door. A sign points to restrooms around the corner. Above the pass-through window an old Confederate flag and a new U.S. flag are pinned to the wall. There are pictures with the flags: a painting of Jefferson Davis – first and only president of the confederated states – in an ornate antique frame and a photograph of the current U.S. president in a cheap flimsy frame.

A big rough looking man with his hair shaved to stubble is sitting in the lighted booth with several small white boxes before him. Daryl introduces us.

"Glenn, this is my brother Merle."

Merle pauses in lifting the flaps of the containers. "Looks like both the Dixon brothers are having Chinese tonight."

"I'm Korean."

"Does that mean Daryl won't be hungry for you again an hour later? 'Cause I bet he will be."

Daryl groans but I can't help smiling. "I think I'm flattered."

"You should be. I gotta admit you're a cute little fucker."

I turn to Daryl. "Is he hitting on me?"

"He better not be," Daryl says.

"I'm just complimenting my brother's taste. Didn't think he'd get anybody so good, new as he is to faggotry."

"All right, thanks for your valuable input, Merle. We're going upstairs." Daryl sounds as if he's used to this type of exchange.

I look over my shoulder as we walk away and see Merle expertly wielding chopsticks.

"Sorry about that," Daryl is apologetic.

"Don't worry about it, your brother is kind of funny. In an oafish way."

Upstairs, Daryl seems embarrassed that his home isn't shiny and modern like my soulless apartment but I like the shabby chic look. With a little updating it would be a great space.

The Blake Collection is closed the next day so I stay over and have lunch downstairs. Daryl brings me the daily special, venison schnitzel and pecan pie. It's better than fine restaurants I've dined at. It really tastes homemade, like it came from a down-home kitchen. Which it did.

On continuous play are songs about Georgia:  _Midnight Train to Georgia, Rainy Night in Georgia, The Devil Went Down to Georgia, Sweet Georgia Brown, Georgia on My Mind, The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia_ , even the Georgia Bulldogs fight song. Then a song comes on that's not about Georgia in particular but about the South during the Civil War. All activity in the café stops and Daryl forms a dance line. Most of the customers join in. Merle stays at the grill to keep an eye on the food as he sings the first verse:

 _Virgil Caine is the name and I served on the Danville train_  
_'Til Stoneman's cavalry came and they tore up the tracks again_  
_In the winter of '65 we were hungry, just barely alive_  
_By May 10th Richmond had fell; it's a time I remember, oh so well._

Everyone joins in for the chorus:

 _The night they drove old Dixie down, when all the bells were ringing_  
_The night they drove old Dixie down, and all the people were singing_  
_They went 'Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na'._

Daryl takes the next verse:

 _Back with my wife in Tennessee when one day she called to me_  
_Said "Virgil, quick, come and see, there goes Robert E. Lee!"_  
_Now, I don't mind chopping wood and I don't care if the money's no good_  
_You take what you need and you leave the rest, but they should never have taken the very best._

Another chorus, then the brothers sing the last verse together:

 _Like my father before me, I will work the land_  
_And like my brother above me, who took a rebel stand_  
_He was just eighteen, proud and brave, but a Yankee laid him in his grave_  
_And I swear by the mud below my feet, you can't raise a Caine back up when he's in defeat._

 _The night they drove old Dixie down, when all the bells were ringing_  
_The night they drove old Dixie down, and all the people were singing_  
_They went 'Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na'._

 _The night they drove old Dixie down, when all the bells were ringing_  
_The night they drove old Dixie down, and all the people were singing_  
_They went 'Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na'._

It's not a happy song but there's something uplifting about singing it. I don't have the heritage of the south in my genes but I'm beginning to understand it. My parents came from Korea. I was born in Michigan and grew up there. I came to Georgia for college, stayed for graduate school and could happily spend the rest of my life here. Hopefully with Daryl.

When everyone has been served and there's a lull, Daryl and Merle come over and sit with me. Daryl is wearing workpants, laced boots and white tee shirt again with a white dish towel tucked at his waist. Merle has jeans and motorcycle boots with his tee shirt and dish towel. It seems to be the Dixie Kitchen uniform.

"I like the dancing. Reminds me of Johnny Rockets."

"We only do it two or three times a week whenever that song comes on. It's set up for random play. You don't dance?" Daryl asked. He had raised his eyebrows at me during the song, inviting me to join.

"I wanted to watch the first time. I'll dance next time."

Daryl looks happy at the prospect of next time.

"That's a great song. I don't know it."

"It's from the sixties," Merle says. "Written by a fucking Canuck. It's a goddamn embarrassment that it took somebody so far north to write a song like that about the south."

I ask about the absence of menus and Daryl explains that they don't offer everything every day so they don't bother with menus.

"We chalk the special on that board by the door. Most everyone who comes here already knows the drill."

"What other specials do you have?"

"Depends what we have in the kitchen but there's enough different ones for a couple of weeks."

"Tomorrow is my Meatloaf Mountain," Merle says. "A slab of meatloaf with potatoes and gravy on top, ringed with peas and carrots."

"We'll have my Devil Dog later in the week," Daryl says. "It's a foot long pig-in-the-blanket with spicy chili and cheese."

"Daryl has a nice touch with hot stuff," Merle adds slyly.

I grin in agreement. "And you run all this by yourselves?"

"The place only seats 30. Everybody orders at the window and gets their own drinks and silverware. We take turns, one cooks and the other serves, clears and cashes the customers out. Most folks get the special, but we have pulled pork, slaw and soup every day if they don't want the special."

"It was great but I can't eat like that every day."

"You got the full plate but we make half-orders, too. Lotta guys doing heavy work come here for the full plate. Women usually order the half." Merle nods toward two women in a booth, both well-dressed and very classy.

As if on cue, they get up to leave and I recognize the one in her fifties.

"The brown-haired woman is Deanna Monroe. She used to be in Congress. She has her own law firm now. I met her and her husband at the museum a few months ago."

She pulls a phone from her purse and goes outside.

Merle is staring at the blonde in her thirties as she leaves a tip. "I think I'm in love."

Daryl calls out, "Hey, Law Lady." The blonde walks over.

"My brother Merle is struck dumb at sight of you."

She looks at Merle gazing silent but worshipful then turns back to Daryl.

"Are you sure it was me? Maybe he was already dumb. You were our waiter. You heard that I'm a lawyer?"

Daryl nods.

She says to Merle, "Do you have a court date you need help with?"

"If that's what it takes to see you again, I can get one easy."

A smile flickers. "I believe that." She takes out a card and a pen, writes on the back of the card, lays it in front of Merle and walks out.

Merle picks it up. "Andrea Harrison." He turns it over. "Personal cell number."

I blurt out involuntarily, "What the hell just happened!?"

"I'll tell you," Merle replies. "Daryl turning homo is working to my advantage. He was no good as a wingman before. Guess he'll help his brother now that we're not competing for the same gender pool. Women always went for Daryl's looks. I had to win 'em over with wit and charm."

I'd like to disagree but the evidence is in Merle's hand. He tucks the card away.

* * *

Glenn

After a few weeks we exchanged keys. Tonight I use Daryl's to sneak in after midnight. He's on his back with a sheet pulled up to his waist. He's wearing a white tee shirt. I slip a hand under the sheet below his waist, expecting to grope my way into his boxers but Daryl is bare and my hand fills with his warm soft cock. He makes a muted sound and his hips shift but he doesn't wake up.

I pull the sheet back and move my hand to his sac and my mouth to his swelling shaft. Daryl wakes up moaning and his hands are on my head, holding it in place. His hips thrust up and my mouth slides down.

Afterward it feels so good between us that I bring up something I've been thinking about.

Daryl

"Daryl?"

"Mmm."

"Do you see yourself and Merle living above the café forever?"

You tense. Here it comes. Glenn's got a nice new apartment and he wonders how you can live in an old place like this.

"Well, we're family and we work together. It makes sense."

"Things might change."

He wants you to change. You're not good enough. "What do you mean?"

"Merle will probably move in with Andrea."

"More room for me." You better make it clear this place suits you.

"You might make other arrangements."

You decide to get it over with since Glenn isn't going to let it drop. "What are you trying to say?"

"Would you consider living with anyone else? Me, hypothetically."

"What?" You didn't see this coming. You read the situation and Glenn's intentions all wrong.

"Too soon, right?" Glenn says quickly. "There's no pressure. If the idea doesn't appeal to you, that's fine. But I just thought I'd mention it, if you're ever interested."

"You really want to live with me?"

"Why so surprised?"

"We're pretty different."

Glenn squeezes your cock. "I think we're a lot alike."

"You know what I mean. You'd give up your place and move in with me?"

"My apartment is a place to stay. This is a place to live."

"It's older than your apartment."

"It has more character. It's got potential."

Here we go. He wants to gut the place. "What would you do to it?" you ask suspiciously.

"Nothing you don't agree with. I was thinking of painting."

You relax. "Sure. We always meant to slap a fresh coat on. Is that all?"

"That countertop is so nineties. How do you feel about granite?"

"Andrea's house has granite. It's a good look." You have to admit you like the idea.

"Different light fixtures would make the rooms brighter."

"Okay. Hey, could we have ceiling fans? Get some air circulating."

"Yes! Great idea."

You suggest that the carpet needs replacing.

"Ripped out but not replaced. I bet there's good hardwood underneath. I could refinish it."

"The vinyl isn't in great shape either."

"We could put tile or slate in the bathrooms and kitchen."

"The woodwork and cabinets are kind of beat up but they'd be a lot of work to refinish."

"And that wood isn't good enough to be worth it. I'll paint them."

"I'll help. This could turn out real nice but then the furniture won't look right."

"We can use mine. It would be silly to sell or store it. You need a new mattress anyway. This one is the same age as the countertop."

"Yeah, yours is pretty comfortable."

"Plant based memory foam. I've slept great on it for two years."

"Good for sex, too."

"They should add that to the sales pitch."

"Kind of gets me going to think of you working on 'wood'."

"All that 'grinding' and 'polishing'?"

"You read my mind."

"Yeah, that was a tough one. How did I see it coming?"

"You can see me coming most anytime."

Glenn laughs. "I love this, Daryl. I love you."

"I love you, too. Never thought I'd say it and mean it so much."

You're satisfied that you stood your ground about the home front until just before dropping off you realize the whole place is going to be overhauled. And you're fine with it. How did Glenn manage that?

* * *

Glenn

A month later the Dixie Kitchen is a sea of red and purple. There must be twenty women, none under 70. The upper age might be a century. Daryl told me the café was closed for a private party of Red Hats but I didn't know what that meant. The booths are empty and the tables in the middle have been pushed together. The women are seated, talking and laughing and sipping sweet tea.

Merle comes from the kitchen carrying a big covered platter. Daryl wheels a cart with side dishes.

"Prepare yourself, ladies," Merle announces. "You ain't seen a piece of meat this big and juicy since your young stud boyfriends undressed."

The ladies titter and pretend to fan themselves and they say things like "Merle, you rascal" and "Don't tell all our secrets, now".

Merle sets the platter down and lifts the cover to reveal a beautiful ham garnished with pineapple and cherries. He scrapes the carving knife and fork together and begins to slice. Daryl adds collard-green slaw, grapple salad and cornbread to the plates and I step up to hand them around.

"Daryl, is this your young man?" one little old lady asks.

"Yes'm, this is Glenn."

"Well, you make a fine couple."

"He's a looker, all right." Daryl winks at me.

"You know I meant you're both awful good-lookin'."

Daryl says, "Yes'm" again with a grin. I add "Thank you, ma'am."

"Y'all call out if you need anything," Merle says and the three of us head to the kitchen to eat at a table in the corner and give the ladies privacy to visit. It sounds like quite a party out there.

"Does this happen often?"

"They go someplace every month," Daryl tells me. "They come here a couple times a year."

"They knew our Mama and Grandmamas," Merle explains. "Some of our recipes came from them through Mama. They're good ole gals."

"Nice as pie mostly but tough, too," Daryl adds. "Seems as if Southern women either die young or live forever."

The Dixon brothers weren't lucky.

As we clear the table, Merle tells the ladies there'll be a little dancing so they can work up a thirst for a taste of 'shine and a scoop of homemade peach sherbet. Most of the ladies get up and form a line. A few with canes or walker remain seated to provide the cheering section. Familiar chords roll through the speakers. Daryl raises his eyebrows at me. This time I join him.

Daryl

_The night they drove old Dixie down …_

You feel like old Dixie but in a good way. You've been torn down and rebuilt as the person you were meant to be.

Glenn

_The night they drove old Dixie down …_

I'll be going down later myself. On Daryl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The paintings are at the Joslyn Art Museum in Omaha.
> 
> The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down was written by a Canadian, Robbie Robertson, and first recorded in 1969 by The Band.
> 
> [In this version Levon Helm sings the verses and plays drums and the others join him for the chorus. Robertson has a red scarf.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jREUrbGGrgM)
> 
> [In this version The Band performs the song to some wonderful images of the South in the Civil War era.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NnyeqyCiLdo)


	13. Solicitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solicitation: sex in exchange for money.
> 
> Daryl asks and Glenn accepts.

Daryl

He was driving down an unfamiliar street in Atlanta. He didn't get to this part of the city often, it was getting dark, and he got turned around after leaving the repair shop where his truck had spent some time. He had the usual reluctance to ask for directions and there was no one to ask anyway.

Except a figure on the sidewalk ahead, just strolling along. Could be a kid judging by the lean shape and easy gait. Daryl would rather ask a kid than a man who might show contempt for another man reduced to asking for directions.

He slowed, pulled to the curb and called through the open passenger window, "Hey, kid."

The figure turned and Daryl's mouth went dry at sight of straight black hair above tilted almond-shaped eyes and lips curving in a smile.

"Hi."

Daryl was instantly hard. He had no trouble performing and was usually ready fairly fast but this reaction was new. The kid was young but not as young as Daryl had thought. The request for directions didn't make the jump from his brain to his voice. "You looking for a date?" came out instead, although he'd never made such a proposition before. He figured it was a good bet this kid was a rent-boy and if not, Daryl could speed off.

The kid leaned in the passenger window and looked Daryl over appraisingly, that smile still in place.

"Actually, I'm looking for love but I'll settle for a date."

"How much to get blown?"

The kid paused a moment. "A hundred."

That was steep and probably not the going rate, given the hesitation. No doubt the kid recognized he had a live one hooked. Daryl had never paid for it in his life but he figured he owed himself and he couldn't resist having his dick in this kid's mouth.

"Deal."

The kid got in the truck. "I'm Glenn."

"Daryl."

"I like your name, Daryl. I'm glad it's not 'John'."

Daryl was embarrassed for a moment about giving his real name but what was the harm? The kid didn't know his last name or anything else about him.

Glenn reached for Daryl's pants. He had to press Daryl's hard-on down to get the zipper open and then it took some adjustment to angle it up through his underwear but moments later his erection was free and bare. Glenn let it quiver as he licked his lips.

"Don't let anyone tell you size doesn't matter. I may give a discount."

Daryl might have passed this compliment off as the standard line to make a trick feel good about himself and the cost of the action but there was genuine surprise in Glenn's expression and sincerity in his words. Daryl was aware that he was the owner of a dick that would have been in proportion on a bigger frame than his own.

Glenn's mouth descended farther than Daryl thought possible. He felt the head rub the kid's tonsils and had to clench to stop himself from coming shamefully quick. The thought of it being over too soon gave him enough control to lean back and enjoy the experience.

How could Glenn move his mouth up and down while sucking and running his tongue over the throbbing vein in Daryl's engorged shaft? Glenn kept one finger around the base of Daryl's dick, probably so he didn't thrust too hard down his throat. The fingers of his other hand feathered over Daryl's balls, with a firmer touch as he closed in on climax. Daryl's last coherent thought was that you get what you pay for and a professional is worth the price.

Glenn squeezed Daryl's balls and he ejaculated with pressure that ballooned Glenn's cheeks. Daryl sprawled on the seat moaning and shuddering. Glenn lay with his head on Daryl's legs. Without thinking Daryl palmed the front of the kid's jeans. The bulge, even confined, was a good handful. Daryl released him and stroked with a hard twist. A minute later Glenn was moaning and shuddering as Daryl had.

"You give good hand, Daryl."

"You give great head, Glenn."

As Daryl reached for his billfold a thought niggled at him. He hadn't transacted this type of business before but he wasn't ignorant of the procedure and he was pretty sure the number one rule was pay before play. "You didn't get the money upfront," Daryl said slowly, his mind trying to grasp the implication.

Glenn grinned. "Oops."

"Jesus, what did we just do?"

"We had a really nice time."

"But you're not …"

"A prostitute? No."

Before they could continue the conversation a police cruiser pulled up with lights flashing but no siren.

"Oh, shit," Daryl said.

They barely had time to tuck their equipment away when an officer knocked on the window with a flashlight. The light blinded Daryl as he slid the window down.

"License and registration." The officer made no effort to sound friendly or even pleasant.

Daryl handed them over silently. The officer barely glanced at them. He ordered both men out of the car on the driver's side and told them to assume the position against the vehicle.

"What's this about?" Daryl figured it was time to protest innocence even if it wasn't true.

"Is this a parking violation?" Glenn asked. "Kind of an overreaction, sir."

"Parking," the officer scoffed. "There are cameras both ways at the intersection." He proceeded to cuff them, read their rights, and put them in the back of the cruiser.

Daryl wasn't giving in that easily. His truck was in the middle of the block and he didn't think the cameras would show good detail that far away. Plenty of time to plead down when evidence was presented.

"What are we charged with?" Daryl demanded.

"You know. If you want to pretend you don't, you'll find out at the station."

In the back of the cruiser Daryl whispered his doubts to Glenn. They agreed both would stick to the story that Daryl spotted his friend Glenn who hopped in the truck to talk. Daryl had been arrested before and done a little jail time for minor offenses. Glenn looked young and innocent and Daryl had expected him to lose his shit over being arrested but the kid was calm and seemed interested in what was happening. Daryl admired his coolness under the circumstances.

It was a busy Friday night at the police station and the booking area was overbooked at the moment. Daryl and Glenn were relieved of their effects and offered phone calls.

"You got somebody to call for bail?" Daryl asked.

Glenn shook his head. "I'd rather not call my boss or I'll get fired, and my friends work at the same place. You have someone?"

"Yeah." Daryl would have to call his brother. Merle had called Daryl for the same service on more than one occasion.

"Yup?" Merle sounded impatient when he answered.

"It's me."

"Where the hell are you? Thought you'd be home by now. I'm hungry and it's your turn to make supper."

"I'm in jail in Atlanta."

"What the fuck did you do?" Merle didn't sound angry, just curious.

Daryl wasn't going to explain that 'fuck' pretty much covered it. "It's a bullshit charge. I'll tell you when you get here. Come bail me out. And a friend."

"It better not be Randall. I ain't bailing his ass out of jail."

"Why would you think it's Randall? We ain't seen him for months."

"I ain't seen him. I don't know what you been up to. Somehow that little pisser comes to mind when I hear about trouble and jail."

"It's not Randall. The guy is Glenn and you don't know him."

Merle sighed with the resignation of a long-suffering older brother. "I'll be there."

Daryl and Glenn were placed in a holding cell with a few other guys to await processing. Daryl didn't mind. It would give them a chance to go over their hurried story and get the details straight. But first there was something else to discuss.

"Why did you go along with it?"

"Look in a mirror, Daryl. I saw you and thought, why not?"

"You did that because you liked my looks?"

"Why did you ask me?"

"Okay, same reason. But it don't seem right."

"I'm fine with it. You enjoyed it, too."

"Yeah, until Sergeant Walsh came along. This is fucked up."

"So we hooked up on appearance only. So what? We could have ended the same way if we met in a bar or anywhere else."

"We might have talked a little first."

"We introduced ourselves. Daryl is your real name, isn't it?"

Daryl nodded.

"And my real name is Glenn. We didn't lie."

"I never did that before. I didn't think about using a fake name."

"You've never bought it? You seemed to know what you were doing. What made you think I was selling it?"

"It popped out when I saw you. I meant to ask how to get to the highway."

"You don't live in Atlanta?"

"I'm 20 miles away. Little place called Benford. What were you doing on that street?"

"Delivering a pizza. My moped is chained to a streetlight. Hope it's still there when we get out of here. I've never been propositioned before."

Daryl reddened. "Can't believe I did that."

Glenn smiled. "I can't believe I did it, either."

"Not to encourage you, but you could be making a lot more money than delivering pizza."

"I didn't actually see any money yet."

"I'll be glad to pay when I get my billfold back."

"I'm kidding. It was mutual. Let's not cheapen it."

"A hundred ain't cheap."

"I didn't know what to charge. Anyway, you agreed."

"It was that or my dick was going to break off on the drive home. The second I saw you I was so hard I hurt. You got a serious talent," Daryl said admiringly.

"I had quality equipment for the task at hand. And mouth."

Meanwhile Merle had arrived on his motorcycle. He was annoyed when he found out Daryl and Glenn hadn't been processed yet and he proceeded to be vocal about it. Surprisingly, instead of being ignored he was taken into the lieutenant's office.

"Rick Grimes." The officer introduced himself and invited Merle to have a seat. Merle was immediately suspicious of this congenial treatment.

"What's going on? Why are my brother and his friend being held?"

"Daryl Dixon and Glenn Rhee were brought in on suspicion of solicitation."

"That can't be right. Dixons don't pay for it."

"There is surveillance camera footage."

"I'd have to see it to believe it."

Lieutenant Grimes nodded and turned a monitor around so Merle could see it. Merle watched a grainy image of Daryl's truck slowing beside a hazy figure on the street. The figure leaned on the window for a minute then got in the truck. There was some shadowy movement within the truck but nothing was visible. A few minutes later a cruiser pulled up. Daryl and the hazy figure got out of the truck. They were cuffed and put into the cruiser.

"Daryl said it was a bullshit charge and he's right. That's not even circumstantial. It's my brother spotting a friend and stopping to visit."

"Their clothes were in disarray when Sergeant Walsh approached the vehicle."

Merle looked down at his jeans, shirt and wifebeater. "You mean like me? Don't think I'm coming on to you because the button on my jeans is undone. Truth is this pair fit better a few pounds ago. Hope my open shirt ain't turning you on. Hot night in Georgia, it'd be strange to see a shirt all buttoned up."

Merle took in the lieutenant's expression. "What's more, you know it. So what's really going on?"

Grimes sighed. "The arresting officer was watching surveillance camera monitors and felt he had witnessed a crime in progress. He was a little overzealous."

"So let my brother and his friend go. They ain't even been booked yet. And do something about your Nazi before he ruins the case on a real crime."

Grimes nodded. "He'll be dealt with. I'll have a few words with your brother and Glenn Rhee and then they'll be free to go."

Merle stood up. "Fair enough. I'll wait out front."

The station was still busy. Merle found space on a bench and settled in for the show. Watching folks in a police station was a good way to pass time. Right away his eyes lit on a fine-looking blonde talking with a mousy woman. They were quiet but Merle had sharp ears and he was close enough to overhear.

"Carol, this can't continue," Blonde said. "You've given Ed more chances than he deserves. You need to swear out the complaint this time and stick to it. And think of Sophia. Tell her, Maggie."

A young woman with dark red hair was sitting on the other side of Carol with a shy young girl beside her.

"You can't protect yourself or your daughter," Maggie said. "You can make the decision to stay with Ed for yourself but not for a minor child. I've been assigned by Child Protective Services to look out for her welfare. If you stay with your husband, Sophia will be placed elsewhere in a safe environment."

Carol's eyes filled with tears. She nodded and reached across for Sophia's hand. "I'll sign," she said to Blonde.

"I'll get the paperwork started," Blonde said.

"And I'll reserve space at the shelter," Maggie said.

The four of them moved off.

Next up were a pair of perps brought in by a pair of cops. From various greetings called out by other officers Merle learned that the black cop was Tyreese, the white one was Abraham, the perps were Dave and Tony and they weren't strangers to this police station. Dave was a good-looking guy with hard flat eyes that belied his pleasant expression. Tony was fat and sullen.

Behind them came an old white-haired gent with a young blonde woman. Maggie with CPS had returned and she went over to them. "Daddy, Beth! What happened?"

"They broke into Daddy's vet clinic." "They raided my drug cabinet."

The blonde woman from earlier sat down beside Merle. The waiting area was crowded but there were a couple of other places she could have sat. Merle took this as an invitation.

"Keeping you busy tonight?" 

"Yes and all pro bono so far."

"I'm Merle Dixon."

"Andrea Harrison. Do you need an attorney?"

"I believe I do."

"What's your legal issue?"

"Oh, that ain't why. It's a personal need. I represent myself in matters of the law."

"How has that worked out?"

"Not so well for me but I just talked a lieutenant into letting my brother and his friend go without processing them."

"Impressive. Rick Grimes doesn't cave easily. Or ever."

"I admit it wasn't me so much as the arresting officer dug himself into a hole."

Andrea looked interested. "Was it Shane Walsh?"

"Not his first problem?"

"He's been on the edge for awhile. He and Grimes are friends so Grimes tried to work it out but he'll have to settle it now."

"How come you know so much about it? One of your clients get in Walsh's way?"

"No, I had the poor judgment to date him but once was enough." Andrea paused. "I'd like to know what happened."

"I'd like to tell you. What are you doing when you're done here?"

"I'll need a drink. Probably more than one."

"I'm buying. Say where and when."

"Do you know Frosty's? In half an hour."

"I'll be there."

Andrea's name was called and she went to help Carol complete paperwork.

Meanwhile Daryl and Glenn had been escorted to Rick Grimes' office.

Lieutenant Grimes invited them to sit and said he'd give it to them straight. Usually a start like that would make Daryl think he was about to be lied to but Grimes looked them in the eyes and Daryl thought he might be honest.

"The camera footage has been reviewed and it's inconclusive. There is also no evidence of money exchanging hands. Dixon's billfold contained $168.00 and Rhee's pocket held a five dollar bill which he stated was a delivery tip received twenty minutes earlier and that has been confirmed. You'll be released without processing and this incident won't go on your records.

"But I suspect what was happening. If your records showed prior acts, this might have gone a different way. Daryl Dixon, you've done local time for drunk and disorderly, possession of an unlicensed firearm and operation of an illegal still."

Daryl wasn't ashamed of his basically harmless infractions but he was afraid they would be a big deal to Glenn. He liked this kid but he was out of Daryl's league. Blowing a stranger was probably the worst thing Glenn had ever done and he might blame Daryl for his brush with the law.

But Grimes wasn't finished.

"Glenn Rhee, you weren't convicted in the matter of two vehicle thefts but juries are unpredictable and they liked you more than the prosecutor. But youth and charm fade so don't push your luck."

Daryl was stunned. Stealing cars! This kid was a constant surprise. First, the blowjob and then finding out Glenn's record was more colorful than his own. And he sat there looking like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

Lieutenant Grimes looked from one to the other. He was stern but there were laugh lines around his mouth and eyes. Not a bad guy after all. Decent cop, too. Grimes stood up.

"You're free to go." He even stuck out a hand to shake with them.

"Thanks," Daryl mumbled.

"Good man," Glenn said.

Their personal property was returned and they hustled out to the waiting area. Merle stood up and the three men exited the police station.

"Glenn, this is my brother Merle."

Merle nodded at Glenn. "So you two are FB?" he asked.

"Facebook?" Glenn sounded confused.

"Fuck buddies."

"Kind of," Glenn admitted.

"Recent acquaintance?" Merle asked Daryl.

"Couple of hours," Daryl said.

"Thought so. I saw the footage."

"How the hell did you see it? And Grimes said it was inconclusive."

"I made a stink about the delay so he showed it to me. I pointed out it didn't show shit, which he already knew. The arresting officer is in trouble and Grimes had already decided to let you go."

"I thought we were getting off too easy," Daryl said.

"Yeah, this is the second time tonight you got off easy." Merle cackled at his own wit.

Daryl looked sour but someone else appreciated Merle's humor: Glenn laughed.

Merle had planned to take Daryl to his truck and let Daryl come back for Glenn. But his bike was big and Glenn wasn't.

"Aw hell, it's a short ride. Squeeze on, Chinaman."

"I'm Korean."

"Whatever. You sit between us so Daryl's dick is against your ass, not mine. I'm confident that all of us prefer that."

"I certainly do. But you don't mind my cock against your ass?"

"At least it ain't incest."

After dropping them at the truck and moped, Merle sped off to his date.

"I had no idea you were such an outlaw," Daryl said.

"I thought it was an easy way to pay my student debt." Glenn shrugged. "Bad decision."

"You didn't get convicted."

"But I lost my job which actually used my degrees in marketing and business management. I'm grateful to Dale Horvath. He's an old ex-con who hires people like me who made a mistake. That's why I didn't want to call him or anyone else at Scooter's Pizza."

"I was afraid you'd be put off by my record."

"You're a lightweight. But yours is more interesting than GTA. Drunk, disorderly, guns and moonshine. What a combination."

"I guess your risk-taking behavior explains the best blowjob I ever got."

"And I was on board before I even saw your cock."

"Maybe we could get together for real sometime," Daryl suggested.

"I'd like that." Glenn hesitated. "But what if this is just the heat of the moment? We might wake up tomorrow freaked out by what happened."

"We could take some time to think it over. Pick a place to meet in a week. If one of us doesn't show up, no harm, no foul."

They agreed to meet at The Varsity the following Friday night. 

Daryl went to bed that night pleased with the unexpected turn his life had taken. He was even happier the next day with the memories.

The second day he was less satisfied because a week suddenly seemed like a long time.

The third day he decided anticipation was way overrated.

The fourth day was endless, unlike his patience.

The fifth day he wondered whether Glenn would think it was a good or bad surprise if Daryl showed up early. They had found out each other's last names but hadn't exchanged any other info like addresses. But Daryl knew Glenn worked at Scooter's Pizza.

Late afternoon Daryl couldn't wait any longer so he headed to Atlanta. At Scooter's he asked for Glenn and was told his shift had ended. When he asked for an address or phone number the owner was called up front from the office. Daryl remembered the name when an older white-haired man introduced himself as Dale Horvath.

"I'm sure you understand why I can't give out personal information. Glenn is scheduled to work 11 to 5 tomorrow. Stop back then."

Daryl was on a mission and wasn't giving up easily. "I'm a friend of his," he said doggedly. "It doesn't sound like it since I don't know his phone or address but it's complicated."

Dale looked sympathetic. "I suppose I could call Glenn and ask if it's okay."

That would spoil the surprise and Daryl took a moment to ask himself if he should stop being impulsive and suck it up for two more days. His cell phone rang. It was Merle.

"How come you're never around when I need you?" Merle complained.

"I'm in Atlanta. What's wrong?"

"Where in Atlanta?"

"Scooter's Pizza. Where Glenn works."

"Huh. He's not there."

"Nope. But how do you know?"

"Because he's here. He showed up looking for you and you went looking for him. Ever since you two met it's been like a rom-com."

Daryl felt himself grinning like an idiot. "Let me talk to him."

"He's already on a call."

Daryl turned around to see Dale on a phone.

"Don't let Glenn leave. I'll be home in half an hour." Daryl hung up.

Dale hung up, too, and smiled kindly. "You must be Daryl."

"Yeah."

"Looks like you and Glenn had the same idea. He'll wait for you."

"Thanks."

"Glenn told us a few days ago that he met someone. He sounded pretty happy and hopeful about it."

"Me, too."

"You better take dinner with you. Here's a hot pie fresh from the oven. On the house." Dale handed over a flat box.

"Appreciate it." Daryl dropped a twenty into the tip jar on the counter.

Daryl forced himself to drive the speed limit home. He didn't need to get pulled over by Sergeant Walsh and arrested for possession of stolen pizza since he had no receipt.

Glenn was waiting on the porch when Daryl pulled up. Their eyes met while he was still in the truck and stayed locked as Daryl got out with the pizza.

Merle came out, took the box and said, "All right, you've had your moment. Let's eat."

Over pizza Merle announced he'd be heading out as soon as he finished supper.

"You been running off a lot lately," Daryl said.

"We all got lucky that night. I met a woman at the police station."

Merle's taste was often questionable so Daryl asked the obvious: "What was she in for?"

Merle looked miffed. "She wasn't in. Andrea's a lawyer."

"Hey, my lawyer was named Andrea," Glenn said. "Andrea Harrison."

"That's her. She good in court?"

"I was found not guilty of stealing two cars. I did it and she knew it. She said it was a rush getting nonviolent offenders off."

"That's my girl," Merle said with satisfaction. He left for Atlanta.

Licking grease off their fingers and sauce from their lips was enough foreplay for Daryl and Glenn. They went to bed.

Glenn

Five days ago I would have said that not going to prison was the best thing that happened in my life. Then Daryl Dixon came along. Came literally because I blew him a minute after we met. Daryl said it was the best BJ he's ever gotten. It's like that saying: If you love what you do, it's not just a job. I love to suck cock. And I don't choke under pressure, if you know what I mean.

Why did I play along with Daryl that night? I've always been open and impulsive and I believe good things will happen. Daryl was the best thing I'd ever seen and I wanted to do that even if it was only once. But it turned into more because we got arrested and had the chance to talk. It was Daryl's idea to get together again and I was totally in favor but my past nudged me. Very poor judgment led to my trouble two years ago so I put the brakes on my impulse and we agreed to wait a week before meeting again.

I was in a daze the next day at work, reliving everything. I was still spacey the second day and Dale finally asked if anything was wrong so I told him and the others that I met someone. I haven't been with anyone since I got arrested two years ago. This was important to me.

The third day I was horny. I wanted – needed – the sight, feel, taste and scent of Daryl. Wait, one of the senses is missing. Sound! I needed to hear his voice with that slight drawl. The last few years I've settled down from the hormonal surge of my teens and early twenties but suddenly I feel like a sex addict. M-bating morning and night. The fourth day was worse and the fifth day I gave in to my impulses. I drove to Benford, asked at the gas station where the Dixon brothers lived and went to see … Merle.

Coincidence number 1: Daryl and I both gave in to impulse two days early.

Coincidence number 2: Merle is dating my lawyer.

As soon as Merle left we gave in to another impulse and went to bed.

Daryl wanted to blow me. He thought I got shortchanged with only a hand job our first time. I asked for anal instead and he happily complied but felt I got shortchanged again. He prefers to top and it's hard for him to understand that a bottom doesn't feel that way. Actually I'm a versatile who prefers to bottom and Daryl is open to experimentation so we're looking forward to a lot of fun. Meanwhile I realize Daryl has been to my workplace but I know almost nothing about him.

"I don't even know what you and Merle do."

"We're Dixon Nuts."

"Dicks & Nuts? Please tell me that's a porn production company. And you're the star. Can I own you on DVD or Blu-ray?"

"You got me right here for free."

I slip a hand between Daryl's legs. "And you're interactive."

Daryl squirms against my hand but manages to tell me about their business.

"We grow a lot of pecans and some almonds, chestnuts and walnuts. You never heard of us because we don't distribute under our own name. We sell to a conglomerate." 

A nut farm that isn't a mental institution.

Daryl and I continue to see each other. I usually go to Benford because his house has more room than my studio apartment. And plenty of privacy because Merle goes to Atlanta to see Andrea. We're pleased to discover there's more than physical attraction between us although the sex is better than ever even after the first frenzy slows down. We really like each other. I told Daryl when we met that I was looking for love. I believe we've both found it. Daryl is different from the guys I've been with before. He's not polished and I prefer my diamond in the rough. He's real and interesting and what you see is what you get. Except when he's naked. I'm the only one that gets that.

As I learn about the nut business I see possibilities for Dixon Nuts. Eventually I present Merle and Daryl with a plan to distribute their own product. They'd make much more cutting out the middleman and the initial outlay would pay for itself in three to five years.

"Sounds good," Merle said. "But how solid is it?"

"I studied your production and sales for the past eight years and the prediction of weather patterns optimal for growing nuts. The only thing that could go wrong is a global disaster. The real hurdle will be getting a loan. If this qualifies, you're golden."

The loan officer reviewed the plan, checked my work, and approved the loan for the Dixon brothers and me – their new marketing director and business manager – to get up and running. I quit Scooter's Pizza, gave up my apartment and moved in with Daryl to save money because they can't afford to pay me much during the start-up.

* * *

The following year, just before the nuts were to be shipped under their own brand, Wildfire Syndrome spread like … well, like wildfire. Global disaster. I didn't mean it when I mentioned it! But there are two upsides for us: The loan never had to be repaid; and vacuum-packed, sealed nuts last a long time and are an excellent source of protein.

Dixon Nuts. Meeting your nutritional needs in the zombie apocalypse.


	14. Aberration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aberration: abnormality, irregularity.
> 
> Daryl is mentally challenged and Glenn is his caseworker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very different Daryl and I'm not sure if you'll like it or hate it. But since writing a previous chapter about Glenn with a physical disability, this is another 'possibility' I wanted to explore.

Daryl 

Merle clicked off the call, not looking forward to telling Daryl the bad news. He didn't want his brother to be sad. "That was social services."

Daryl looked eager. "Is Dale coming?"

"Afraid not. You know how Dale was getting old? He retired. Gonna drive around in his RV like he talked about."

Daryl's smile faded.

"You're getting a new caseworker. He'll come out next week to meet you."

Daryl just stared.

"Let's have supper," Merle said.

Daryl was quiet as they ate but that wasn't unusual. Merle filled the silence by saying they better clean on the weekend to make a good impression. Daryl helped clear the table and wash up. Merle was glad there was a movie on TV that his brother would like. Zombies might take his mind off Dale.

They didn't because just before bedtime Daryl asked, "Is Dale dead?"

"Why do you think that?"

"He didn't say goodbye."

Merle sighed. He'd said Dale retired hoping to spare Daryl but he forgot the one thing his brother picked up on: Dale wouldn't have left without saying goodbye. Daryl was slow but he could work stuff out.

"Yeah, he died. It was sudden. I shoulda told you but I didn't want you to feel bad. I said retired before thinking it through."

"I thought it through."

"Better than me, for sure. Which one of us is brain-damaged?"

Daryl grinned.

Merle always pointed out his own mistakes, letting his brother know everybody did dumb things.

"You wanna go to the funeral?"

Daryl's grin disappeared. He nodded.

"It's on Saturday. We better get out our suits and make sure they're clean. We'll iron our shirts tomorrow night."

Glenn 

It's a big funeral, as expected. Dale Horvath was well known, highly respected and much loved. He's been my mentor for six months. I've been working with him in anticipation of his retirement next year. This is not how I wanted to take over his cases but at least I feel ready because Dale was a great teacher and I learned so much from him.

After the service I spot a man by the hall leading to the restrooms. Very good looking, about 30, with blue eyes and brown hair. He looks terrific in his dark suit but I bet he'd look even better in his birthday suit. Another man comes down the hall, several years older, with the same blue eyes but his close-cropped hair shows some gray. They leave together. It's just as well. I don't want to be a gay guy checking out men at a friend's funeral.

Monday I look over the files on Dale's clients that I haven't met yet. Daryl Dixon, 33, lives just outside Benford with his brother Merle. Benford isn't big enough for any government offices except a post office so Atlanta handles their social services. Daryl has been in the system for decades and is on minimum review because he's a low maintenance case in a stable environment. Dale saw him once or twice a year. Dale's notes suggest quarterly visits my first year in order to build rapport with the Dixons. I can return to minimum review after that. I call Merle Dixon.

"Hello." The voice has a faint drawl that sends a pleasurable shiver through me. My mind flashes to the man at Dale's funeral. I imagine him sounding like this.

"Merle Dixon?"

"No." Pause. "He's in the bathroom."

"Are you Daryl?"

"Yeah."

"My name is Glenn Rhee. Do you know about Dale, your caseworker?"

"He died."

"Yes. I'm sorry. I know you knew him a long time. I'm going to help you now."

"I don't need help." Pause, and then a contradiction. "Merle helps me."

"I know. But there's paperwork I can do to make sure you have everything you need. I'll call back and talk to your brother."

"He's here now."

Sounds of the phone changing hands and a gruffer voice asks, "Who's calling?"

"Glenn Rhee, the new caseworker."

"You're the one coming out tomorrow?"

"Yes, I wanted to confirm that I'll be at your house at 4 pm."

"We'll be there."

Daryl 

"I don't want a new caseworker," Daryl said mulishly. "I don't need one."

"You don't really need one but you gotta have one. When the government gives you money they check on their investment."

"I make my own money."

"Sure. But if something happened to me, you'd need more help. So we'll take the money just in case."

"I liked Dale."

"You'll probably like the new guy, too. Remember you had that black woman from child services until you were 18?"

"Jacqui."

"Right. You didn't wanna change to Dale at first. Be the same with this fella. It'll be fine after you know him. We won't see him much."

Daryl looked unconvinced but he didn't argue.

Glenn 

Benford is a small town just outside Atlanta. There are signs of poverty but it appears to be doing all right. There's a service station for gas and repairs, the post office, branch of a big Atlanta bank and a bar and grill. The Dixons live a mile outside of town. A man comes out onto the porch as I drive up. He looks familiar. He's the man who came down the hall at Dale's funeral. I'm getting a bad feeling about who my new client is.

Daryl Dixon hovers in the doorway as I park and get out. Despite not wanting to go man-hunting at Dale's funeral, I'd begun to regret not saying hello to the attractive stranger. Good thing I didn't. His condition is a disappointment but it's time to do my job. Both Dixons are in matching uniforms, dark blue work pants and lighter blue work shirts. They work at the service station and probably left early to meet with me.

Introductions are a little awkward but not terrible. We go inside and sit down. Merle offers iced tea and Daryl brings it. The house is shabby but comfortable. It's obviously a bachelor home. It wouldn't pass the white glove test but it's clean enough and neat enough and looks like it always is, not like they had to shovel the place out to get ready for a visitor.

Daryl stares at me and asks, "Are you from China?"

I smile, careful not to laugh at him. "No, but you're very close. My parents are from Korea which is right beside China. They came to the U.S. when they were young. I was born in Michigan. That's up north."

Daryl nods. "Fishing."

"That's right," Merle says. "We went fishing there a few years back." He turns to me. "How did you end up down south?"

"I came here for college and loved the weather so I stayed."

I ask Daryl to show me his room. There's a neatly made double bed. An outdoors magazine is on the nightstand beside it. Under the window is a small table apparently used as a desk, with a chair. A dresser is against another wall with some books suitable for a young boy lined up on top.

We talk for a few minutes. I tell him that I hope we can be friends and that I'll stop by in a month to see how he's doing. I give him my card so he can call me if he has any questions. I ask if I can talk to his brother for a few minutes and he nods. He stays in his room and closes the door after me.

Dale's notes informed me that Merle Dixon appears rough and can turn mean if challenged but he's done his best for his brother.

"Daryl knows his letters and numbers. He signs his name but most everything else he prints. His writing ain't good but he don't have need to write much. I have him write out paragraphs from books for practice. Dale suggested that. Dale suggested a journal, too. Daryl balked at first because he thought it was like a little girl's diary but Dale told him lots of men keep journals. Daryl kept it up ever since. He doesn't write much. The weather and anything interesting like when we go hunting or if something happens at work."

"You read his journal?"

"He showed me and Dale. Daryl don't have deep thoughts. Well, that's not quite right. He's been known to surprise me. But that's talking. He has trouble putting 'em down on paper."

"What about daily activities like dressing and eating?"

"He's fine, he ain't helpless. No trouble washing and dressing himself. He can take care of himself short-term. Once I was laid up with flu for two days, sick as a dog. Daryl wouldn't let me get up. Made his own meals, simple stuff like cold cereal and sandwiches but he did good. Brought me juice and wouldn't leave me alone 'til I drank it. Went to work, too, so Jim wouldn't be short-handed without both of us."

"Does he drive?"

"He can't pass the test but he knows how to drive. Jim down to the shop lets him take cars we work on a few blocks to make sure a fuel pump is working, things like that."

"I see he tests out at third or fourth grade in most subjects."

"Yeah, he couldn't be on that smart fifth grader show. But what the hell, I can't answer a lot of them questions. Dixons never been good students."

"I read about the accident but I'd like to hear from you what happened. I understand you were eight years old."

"And Daryl was fourteen months. He was normal as could be, walking and babbling away. Daddy came home drunk, picked Daryl up and swung him around. Stumbled, fell and dropped Daryl on his head. I saw it but I couldn't get there to catch him. I remember the sound of his head on the sidewalk like a pumpkin getting squashed. Daryl was in the hospital for weeks while they got the brain swelling down and did tests. He was like a baby again when he came home. Didn't walk or talk for a long time. Mama cried when he started pulling himself up and walking again when he was three. Couple of years later he was talking a little. Mama hoped he'd just be slow for awhile and eventually catch up. He didn't. He was about thirteen when his mind couldn't get any further. But Mama died that year so she never knew he didn't progress."

Merle tells me he's glad Daryl got hurt before he was old enough to remember what he was like before. "He knows he's different from other folks but at least he don't know he's different from himself, what he used to be."

"And your father?"

"I bet the file says I killed him."

"Yes. How did it happen?"

"He didn't spend but a few days in jail for what he did to Daryl and that was only while they looked into what happened and ruled it accidental. It scared him mostly sober for awhile but he took to drinking hard again a few years later. By the time Daryl was nine, Daddy forgot his part in it or maybe he just fooled himself into believing he didn't do anything wrong. He took to calling Daryl slow and stupid. I came home and found Daddy giving Daryl a hard time. Daddy had already slapped Mama around and she was crying. What can I say? He needed killing. I was sixteen and got sent to juvenile detention until I turned eighteen. Small price to pay. I don't regret it."

I don't disagree with his actions. I've seen so much sadness and tragedy in a short time. Everyone in social services does. One of the first things you learn is that you can't let yourself care too much. Sympathy and compassion are necessary but you'll burn out if you take every case personally. But it's difficult to remain detached. That's why there's so much turnover.

I can't help but take Daryl personally. Part of it is that I was drawn to him before I knew who he was. And now knowing his background, the loss of his full potential is such a shame. Dale suggested quarterly visits but I find myself visiting the Dixons at least once a month. I don't want to neglect my other clients so I go on my own time in the evening. That's better for the brothers, too, so they don't have to leave work.

Daryl is always quiet which might have been his nature without the accident. We'll never know. But quiet suits him, watching and listening more than participating. There are flashes of temper occasionally, brought on by his inability to do or say something.

Tonight Daryl is having trouble restringing his crossbow and finally throws it on the floor in anger.

"Daryl." Merle's voice holds a warning tone I haven't heard before. He tips his head toward Daryl's room.

Daryl glares at his brother but stomps to his room and the door closes behind him. It's not quite a slam.

"He was frustrated." I sound as if I'm defending Daryl against harshness from Merle.

"I don't ride him about acting out unless he's got a weapon handy. He loves that crossbow and he hunts with a rifle, too. Don't wanna take that away from him but he's like a kid and kids can do something crazy before they learn to control themselves."

"That makes sense. You're keeping him safe."

"It keeps everybody safe."

"Can I go talk to him?"

"Sure, if he wants to."

I knock on Daryl's door and ask if I can come in.

"Okay."

He's sitting on his chair looking out the window.

"Does Merle make you go to your room when something like that happens?"

Daryl nods. "Time out. Like sports. Merle says calm down and think about something else."

"Does Merle ever punish you? Hit you or lock you in your room?"

"No. Merle helped me."

"Helped you how?"

"When Daddy died."

"Yes, he told me your father was hurting you and Merle stopped him."

"I stopped him."

"What do you mean?"

Daryl looks down. He won't meet my eyes. Something isn't right.

"Tell me what happened."

"Not supposed to say."

"It will help me to take care of you if I know."

"Merle takes care of me."

"But he can't do everything all the time. That's why Dale helped. And now me. Besides, it was a long time ago. Nothing will happen now. But it's important to know the truth."

"It was me, not Merle. I killed Daddy. He was hurting Mama."

I think I knew what Daryl was going to say. And it breaks my heart that he did it for his mother, not because of insults to himself. "Merle told everyone that he did it."

Head nod. "He didn't want me to get in trouble. He went away for a long time."

"He's a good brother. And so are you. You mind him. You take care of each other."

"Supper's ready!" Merle shouts from the kitchen.

Daryl gets up. I felt like the adult when he was sitting but now we're equals. Daryl is an inch taller with broad shoulders and strong arms. I'm disgusted at my awareness of him as an attractive man. It's cruel that his mind will never match his body.

In the living room I pick up my shoulder bag.

"Plenty of food," Merle says. "If you got time for a bite."

I'm about to refuse when Daryl looks up from his seat at the table. "Stay."

Refusal dies on my lips. I should make an opportunity to talk to Merle about what Daryl told me. I drop my bag and go to the table.

Later Daryl takes his crossbow to his room to finish restringing it. I tell Merle what Daryl told me.

"They might have taken Daryl away from Mama," Merle says. "I wasn't gonna let that happen just because he killed the bastard who made him the way he was. I shoulda done it anyway. Would have if I'd gotten home in time."

Dale never knew. Merle is surprised Daryl told me, especially on short acquaintance.

One month I visit Daryl and Merle at Mooney Motors where they both work for the owner Jim Deakins. Daryl, like many car-crazy boys, is good with mechanics. He needs repetitive work that he can stay familiar with. Daryl does oil changes and tire rotations and helps Jim and Merle when they work on more complicated jobs.

The next month Daryl takes me on a hike through the woods where he and Merle hunt. He takes his crossbow because he likes to have it with him but he's not hunting today so we don't have to be quiet and careful as we walk.

Twenty minutes later Daryl stops and looks down. "I have to go."

I catch on right away. "I'll hold your crossbow." I'm matter-of-fact so he won't be embarrassed.

He hands it over and turns toward a tree but doesn't go behind it and I glimpse his cock when he pulls it out before I can turn away. I don't stare but I can't help glancing back a minute later to see him put it away. Daryl is hung. He has to push his cock back into his boxers and flatten the bulge with one hand while he zips up.

I'm having inappropriate thoughts. No, scratch inappropriate and make that immoral, unethical and illegal. I should transfer Daryl to another caseworker. But what excuse could I give? The truth is not acceptable. Besides Daryl has just gotten used to me. It's not fair for him to have to start over again with someone new. This is a momentary aberration on my part because I've never had a client like Daryl before. It's just taking me time to accept that such a vital man has a child-like mind.

I need to find a boyfriend but I don't want to go looking. Maybe if I masturbate more I won't think about sex the rest of the time. Daryl keeps popping into my mind while I stroke myself. I think about rubbing my cock against his chin. His mouth opens and the tip pokes in ... I come before I can imagine any more.

On the next visit Daryl takes me to his room and shows me his journal. I read a few random entries:

_Rain. Glenn brought pizza. Rub._

_Hot and sunny. Jim gave us ice cream._

_Rub. Merle said we can hunt this weekend._

We're sitting on the bed. Suddenly Daryl leans close and his lips are against mine. I'm so surprised I don't pull away. I stop myself when I realize I'm returning the kiss.

Daryl looks down, a tell that I've come to know means he's unsure or embarrassed. "We could do sex," he says hesitantly. "If you want to."

I would love to but I don't let the words out. I have to be careful here. I don't want to hurt him. "It's not about want, Daryl, it's about what's right. And it wouldn't be right for me to do that because my job is to look out for you."

"But I want to."

"But for me it's a conflict of interest. Caseworkers can't have sexual relationships with their clients."

"Okay." Daryl hasn't looked up.

I'm not satisfied leaving it like this but it won't do any good to talk more right now and Daryl might not understand it anyway. I go back to the living room.

"Merle, something just happened. Daryl kissed me."

"He likes you."

"He kissed me on the mouth. It was more than friendship."

"I hope you let him down easy."

"I tried. Has this happened before?"

"Nope."

"Did you know he's gay?"

"Yeah."

"How did you find out?"

"His body was grown up and he had hard-ons. He started coming at night so I told him he could rub himself ..."

"Wait," I interrupt. "He showed me his journal. Several days he put down 'Rub'."

"Dale said the journal was for interesting or important things in his life and I suppose that qualifies."

"Okay, go on."

"I took him to a place when he was 21. Explained to the woman running the joint how he was and she put him with a girl who'd be nice about it. Afterward she said he did fine but she didn't think he liked it much. On the way home I told Daryl to let me know if he wanted to go back. He scrunched his face up like boys do when they still think girls got cooties. So I figured I jumped the gun and he wasn't ready. Then one time changing his sheets I found some pages of a catalog under the mattress. He'd torn out the men's underwear section. You can guess what he was doing with 'em."

"Did you mind?"

"It wasn't my proudest moment but I sucked it up. Went to an adult store in Atlanta and got a gay boy magazine. I put it between a couple of hunting and crossbow magazines and gave 'em to Daryl. Told him he might like to read them. I always say read but he mostly just looks at the pictures. A week or so later the hunting and crossbow magazines show up in the living room but he never gave back the gay one."

"I'll have to transfer his file to another caseworker."

"Ah, shit. He's just getting used to you."

"I know and I'm sorry but you can see why I have to do this!"

"Calm down, kid, it's just sex. We ain't talking weapons of mass destruction here."

"But this can't happen again. I can't let it."

Merle gives me the eye. He uses sloppy grammar, often on purpose, and it makes you forget how shrewd he really is.

"You're passing him to somebody else for yourself as much as for Daryl. You like my brother same as he likes you."

"Yes. You must know he's an attractive man."

Merle sighs. "Well, this is a hell of a deal."

"This isn't Daryl's fault but I can't let our relationship continue. Will he be all right?"

"Yeah, it'll pass. He don't remember stuff too long."

Back at the office I request a transfer of Daryl's case to Carol Peletier and tell our manager that a woman would be better for Daryl because a man reminds him of Dale. I go with Carol on her first visit to introduce her to the Dixon brothers. I say goodbye to Daryl while she talks with Merle.

Daryl won't look at me. "I want you to be my caseworker."

"Carol will be better for you."

"I'm sorry I said sex."

"It's all right."

"But I won't see you now."

"You'll forget about me soon."

Daryl shakes his head no but doesn't speak again.

* * *

Six months drag slowly by. Daryl has forgotten me by now. I wish I could forget him. Carol says he's doing fine. He asked about me on her next visit but he hasn't asked since then.

One day I check my phone after a meeting and see voicemail from Merle Dixon's number. But it's not Merle's message: "Glenn, this is Daryl. Carol is nice but I didn't forget you."

The message is from an hour ago. I call the number and Merle answers.

"Can you talk?" I'm really asking if Daryl is there.

"Yeah, Daryl's busy."

"He left a message from your phone. He said he hasn't forgotten me."

"He still talks about you. Thought he'd be over it by now. I'll tell him not to bother you."

"No, that's not why I'm calling." Pause. "I think about him, too. I miss him."

"Well, hell, come on out and see him."

"Would that work? Is it really possible?"

"You know what you're getting into."

"What if I can't handle it? I don't want to hurt him."

"If you just want to fuck him for fun, leave him alone and I'll keep Daryl from calling you. But if you're serious, give it a try and if it don't work out, I guess you'll both be hurt. Can't help that."

"Can I talk to him?"

Merle calls out, "Daryl! Phone call."

"Hello?"

That soft drawl still sends a shiver through me. "Daryl, it's Glenn. I got your message. I haven't forgotten you either. Maybe we could get together sometime."

"When?"

"How about dinner tomorrow night? I'll pick you up at seven o'clock."

"Okay."

The next night Daryl is waiting on the porch when I arrive. He looks happy to see me and the feeling is mutual. Merle is nowhere in sight. Maybe he thought Daryl would feel more like a man by himself. We're going to the local bar and grill. I think Daryl will be more comfortable in familiar surroundings. As we walk to the door I see our reflections in a window. Daryl is in clean, pressed work pants and a plaid shirt. I'm wearing jeans and a tee shirt. We look good together.

A young woman with blonde hair comes to our table to take drink orders. "Hi, Daryl."

"Hey, Beth." Pause. "This is Glenn."

I'm glad I didn't jump in to introduce myself. I wanted to give Daryl time to do it himself.

Beth and I exchange greetings. Daryl says, "We're on a date."

If Beth is surprised she covers it well. "That's great. I hope you have a good time."

Daryl asks for beer. That doesn't surprise Beth either. I'm not much of a drinker but I order a beer, too.

Over burgers I ask Daryl about the bar and grill and learn that it's owned by a retired veterinarian, Hershel Greene. His daughters Maggie and Beth run it with help from some locals. Most everyone in the place nod at Daryl or call out a greeting. Daryl has lived here all his life. The town knows his history. I wonder if they know he's gay or if they would care.

It's still light out when we leave. Daryl asks if he can show me around. He drives my car and we roll slowly through Benford, most of which I saw when I went to Mooney Motors. We go the opposite way out of town from the Dixon house. Daryl drives past the Greene farm. There are horses in the pasture by the road. In the distance is a beautiful old farmhouse with a barn and chicken coop nearby.

Daryl turns and drives a few miles to a quarry. He steers down a side road and stops the car. We're the only ones here on a school night but I bet this is the local lovers' lane. He looks down and asks, "Can we kiss?"

For answer I lean across and pull him close. He looks up then but closes his eyes as our mouths meet. The kiss is more arousing because of, not in spite of, Daryl's inexperience. After a few minutes I ask him to open his eyes. I hope he likes what he sees as much as I do. When we break he sits back and shifts uncomfortably. So do I because we're both hard.

"Can we have sex?" He's looking down again.

"Yes, but not right now. A car isn't very comfortable. You could come to my apartment in Atlanta this weekend." I want him too much to care about comfort but we have to wait a couple of days. Each step between us has to start with him, not me, and he needs time to think about it.

"I can't drive to Atlanta."

"I'll come and get you Saturday and you can spend the night."

"A sleep over? I never had a sleep over." Daryl's mind and body were never in sync with other boys his age.

"It'll be fun. And we can go out on Sunday. Think of something you'd like to do in Atlanta."

I pick Daryl up Saturday afternoon. He has a small duffel bag. Merle comes out and quietly tells me to call if I need to. He's saying that if it doesn't go well, he'll come and get Daryl.

Daryl looks nervous and excited. So am I. I drive straight to my apartment. We might as well get this over with. I don't mean that the way it sounds. It's just that any first time can be awkward and ours has extra baggage. We need to find out if we're good together.

We both need to come. We can take our time later. We use our hands on each other and it's over pretty fast. The glimpse I had of Daryl's cock all those months ago has remained with me but memory is quickly replaced by reality. And Daryl is fascinated by touching a cock that's not his own. Afterwards he's fascinated with the rest of my body, leaner than his and almost hairless. I have a good imagination and Daryl's body is almost exactly as I pictured it. We're ready again. He reaches for my cock but I say I'd like to do something else for him. Afterward I tell him it's called a blowjob. He said he saw pictures of dicks in mouths but he didn't know what it meant. I ask if he'd like to do it to me and give him a few pointers like not biting or taking me so deep that he gags. He's a fast learner.

An hour later I remember Merle and hope he's not waiting for a phone call. Because Daryl and I are better than good together. Daryl is a man in bed. Unpracticed, sure, but eager and affectionate and instinct seems to take over so that he doesn't seem like a child. I was worried about that.

Later we shower together, something else Daryl's never done. We're hungry from expending so much energy so we go to Applebee's and watch sports while we eat. Back at my apartment, we're too tired for more sex. It's been a big day. I wonder about sleeping arrangements since Daryl has never shared a bed. I offer to take the fold-out couch in my office since he's used to sleeping alone but Daryl refuses. I'm glad he wants to sleep with me literally as well as figuratively.

We're hard again in the morning and Daryl reaches for my cock but I suggest something else and I've got the lube to help it happen. He saw pictures in that magazine of anal sex but, like the blowjob, didn't know what was involved. Pretty soon he does know and he likes it. Topping anyway. I prefer to bottom but I'm flexible. I top Daryl so he'll know what that's like. He goes wild with pleasure. I don't bother to explain his prostate, I'm just glad it feels good to him.

Daryl and I continue to see each other, mostly on weekends but we talk in between. Merle gives him his own phone. Our sex life is very active but we go out, too. Daryl likes movies although he can't always follow the story. He's not alone. Plot is not the biggest factor in Hollywood.

Daryl is more confident now. He looks me in the eye and he doesn't look down as much when he talks with other people either. But our relationship isn't one-sided with me giving and Daryl receiving. We're good for each other. I've had three boyfriends and none of them was as satisfying as being with Daryl.

One weekend he looks at me and says simply, "I love you."

He looks down quickly, a sign of uncertainty he hasn't used with me recently. But he doesn't need to be uncertain. I've wanted to say it to him for awhile but I was determined that every advance in our relationship be from Daryl so that I'm not taking advantage.

"I love you, too."

"I wish we could be together all the time."

"Maybe we can be."

"Will you come and live with me and Merle?"

"I could, if Merle agrees. But your house might be crowded with three. Maybe I could get a house in Benford and we could live together."

Daryl looks pleased but also apprehensive. I was worried that this might be moving too fast or be too much of a change for him.

"Let's think about it for awhile and see how we feel."

Merle calls me after I take Daryl home. "Daryl said you want to live together. Thought I better make sure he got it right."

"Yes. I should have talked to you first."

"He said something about you getting a house. Might be better if I moved out."

"No, Merle, it's your house."

"It belongs to both of us. And Daryl is used to it. Would it be better for him to stay or would a change do him good?"

"I'm not sure, but you may be right that Daryl would be better in his childhood home."

"I'm his legal guardian. Is that enough to let you live together?"

"It should be, but I've been thinking that a competency hearing might be a good idea. It wouldn't mean that Daryl could make all his own decisions. But he could have more say in his life."

"How would that work?"

"As his caseworker, Carol could petition the court. It would be a private hearing in judge's chambers. The judge would speak with Daryl by himself, and probably with you and me as well."

"Sounds scary for Daryl."

"Yes, but he's done so well lately that I think he could handle it. Ask Carol. I won't talk to her first. I want her to give you an honest opinion."

Daryl 

Two months later Carol Peletier petitioned the court on behalf of Daryl Dixon, legal ward of Merle Dixon, for a competency hearing in the matter of life decisions relating to but not limited to his relationship with Glenn Rhee. Her written report was filed with the court and the judge met with her to go over it. After that, Carol was excused and Daryl was called to chambers.

"Don't be nervous, Daryl," Judge Harrison said. "I'm going to ask some questions because I need your help to be sure I understand the situation. Can you tell me why you're here today?"

"Me and Glenn want to be together."

"Why do you want to be together?"

"We love each other." Daryl reddened with discomfort at talking about love with a stranger.

"Who else do you love?"

"Merle. And Mama but she's dead."

"What does 'be together' mean to you?"

"We'd live together and take care of each other and do stuff together."

"You love your brother and you live together. Do you take care of each other and do stuff together?"

"Yeah. But not everything."

"What's different with Glenn?"

Daryl looked down. "Sex stuff."

"You and Glenn have had sex?"

"Yeah."

"Whose idea was that?"

Daryl looked confused. "We just did it."

"Did Glenn tell you to have sex with him?"

"No."

"Did he make you do it?"

"No! I wanted to but he wouldn't at first. After awhile he talked to Merle and then he did." Daryl looked stubborn. "I can't think good but I'm not a kid. I'm a man."

"Had you had sex before?"

Head down. "Once. With a girl." He sounded ashamed.

"Did you want to have sex with a man before?"

"I thought about it."

"Why didn't you?"

"I didn't know Glenn."

"You only want to have sex with Glenn?"

"I love him."

Judge Harrison smiled. "Thank you, Daryl. I know it's uncomfortable talking about these things."

"Can Glenn and me be together now?

"Let me talk to Glenn and your brother and then we'll see."

Glenn was sent in next.

"Is Daryl all right? I hate putting him through this."

"He's fine." Judge Harrison paused. "Tell me why you're here today."

"I love Daryl. And I believe he loves me, too. We deserve the chance to be happy together."

"He's a man with a ten-year-old boy's mind."

Glenn couldn't help making the obvious retort. "A lot of women would say that's about average."

Judge Harrison smiled. "And they might be right. But seriously, will you be satisfied with what Daryl can give? I believe you're both sincere but most couples expect their relationship to grow and deepen and that may not happen with you and Daryl. What you have now may be all there will ever be."

"It's still more than I've had with anyone else. Daryl and I are connected in a way I don't understand any better than he does. I know our relationship won't be completely equal. What relationship is? Most couples have a dominant partner or one who consistently contributes more or makes compromises. I'm willing to be that one. But I'm not sure I'll have to. Because Daryl is loving and loyal and committed. He might be the one who gives more."

"Tell me about your sexual relationship. I don't need intimate details but I want to get a sense of your experience and how it started."

"I was attracted to Daryl almost immediately, and appalled by the idea. I transferred him to another caseworker but I couldn't forget him. I thought he'd forget me since I wasn't around but he didn't. He used his brother's phone to leave me a message. I called Merle and we talked about it. So Daryl and I became friends and then it was much more."

"Who initiated first contact?"

"Daryl kissed me but I take responsibility. I'm the mental adult. After that Daryl was transferred to Carol Peletier."

"Did his brother know what was happening?"

"Nothing else happened until months later after I talked to Merle."

"He gave his blessing to a sexual relationship between you and Daryl?"

"Yes."

"And you went along with it because …?"

"Because we both wanted it. He has a man's needs and his mind isn't childish about sex. There's a maturity about some things even though he can't express himself well."

"Thank you, Glenn. Send in Merle Dixon."

Judge Harrison looked at Merle for a moment. "Are you tired of caring for your brother?"

"Course not."

"Are you sure? You've been his primary caregiver for 20 years and were fully involved before that when your mother was alive. You've never married. You might feel that life is passing you by."

"I ain't the marrying kind. And Daryl's not a burden."

"'He's not heavy, he's my brother'?"

"You got that right."

"But you're willing to hand him over to a man who was a stranger a few months ago."

"Daryl ain't a package to be passed around. He's got his say in this. He wants it. And I'll always be close by."

"Why do you want it?"

Merle was trying to be on best behavior but his natural belligerence broke through under pressure. "My little brother is a brain-damaged homo in redneck Georgia. How many strikes does he have to have against him before he gets a break? He's got a right to live as much of a life as he can. Along comes Glenn, a decent kid who happens to be a queer Korean and they take a shine to each other. They're happy and want to stay that way. Don't screw this up for 'em, Sugar Tits."

Judge Harrison let the silence grow before speaking. "I'm going to let that pass because I believe you love your brother and have his interest at heart and you make some good points."

"Yes ma'am," Merle muttered.

Judge Harrison ruled in Daryl's favor. Carol returned to her office. Glenn and Daryl left the courthouse together. Merle figured they had some celebrating to do. He wanted dinner before heading home. As he looked around he spotted Judge Harrison going into a bar called Final Appeal. A hangout for law types no doubt. He followed her. She was alone at a small table and she sure looked different without her judge robe. Maybe she was meeting somebody but he could keep her company until then.

"Buy you a drink?" he offered.

She looked up. "You owe me one."

"Guess I do."

"Sit down and pay up."

They ordered and Merle sat back, ready to eat a little crow. "Waiting my turn made me antsy. Sorry about calling you that name."

"I've been called worse."

"You did a good thing today. Thanks."

"Well, you had me at 'Sugar Tits'."

"That's the last thing I said, not the first thing."

"It took you awhile to persuade me. Actually, Daryl and Glenn persuaded me and your words reinforced my decision."

Merle grinned. "You're the most reasonable judge I ever been in front of. And the best lookin'."

"It's not much of a compliment. You've been in front of two other judges and both were men over sixty."

"You looked me up!"

Judge Harrison flushed. "Part of the judicial process."

"You know all my secrets. I should know something about you."

"My name is Andrea in case you want to call me something besides ma'am."

"Didn't like that? I said it because you're a judge not because you're old."

"Are you flirting with me?"

"Well, I have been wondering what's worn under your robe."

"Same thing as that old kilt joke. Nothing is worn – everything is in perfect working condition."

"I suppose a judge's word is good but I'd rather have proof of that."

"You might find out sometime."

"I'll drink to that." Merle lifted his glass. "Here comes the judge!"

* * *

Merle took a room over Hershel's bar and grill and Glenn arranged to buy out his half of the Dixon house. Daryl and Glenn were afraid that he'd be lonely so they invited him over regularly. Merle joined them sometimes but he seemed to be spending a lot of his free time in Atlanta. He finally confessed that he and Judge Harrison hit it off during Daryl's hearing.

Glenn 

I'm just starting dinner when Merle drops Daryl off after work. He comes in, nuzzles my neck and whispers "Rub-a-dub-dub," a little joke that has become our code for sex.

I kiss him and ask, "Now or later?"

He thinks for a moment, wanting to give the right answer. "Both."

Perfect. We laugh together.


	15. Operation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Operation: a particular course of action.
> 
> Glenn is in trouble and Daryl is President Grimes' fixer.

Daryl

Daryl's dual mode satellite phone rang, the one that was always with him because he served at the pleasure of the president of the United States. It was rarely POTUS calling although it had happened a couple of times. Usually it was his chief of staff summoning Daryl to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Daryl clicked on the call but didn't say anything which was part of the security protocol in case the phone ever fell into the wrong hands. The opening exchange had to follow formula or a breach would be presumed.

"Deputy." Dale Horvath's voice.

"Chief."

"1700."

"Affirmative."

They clicked off. Daryl would be at the White House in an hour for a meeting at five in the afternoon. The exchange had been quick and cryptic by design. The sat phone wasn't for long conversations. It used voice traffic encryption but code could be broken and there was no reason to take chances.

Daryl arrived at the private entrance wearing a suit of a similar style and color as several hundred other mid level staffers. He dressed to blend in not stand out. Anyone especially observant would notice that his shoulders were broader, his body more fit and his blue eyes more watchful than the average West Wing worker.

Daryl passed through the search and screening process and took the back way to the chief of staff's office. Dale was in his early sixties, genial and smiling.

"Cabinet meeting is running late and I've got a call to make. Want to observe?"

Daryl nodded. Dale knew Daryl liked to stay familiar with the people who surrounded the president. There was a secret port into the meeting room where he could watch but not hear the proceedings. Daryl didn't care what was being said. If he needed to know, Dale or Rick would tell him.

Rick Grimes was at the head of the table. He looked different from his campaign two years before. He had been clean shaven then with an open honest face. A respected but untried politician. He was still honest and respected but now also a seasoned leader. He had a neatly trimmed beard showing some gray. It reminded Daryl of when they served together in Afghanistan early in the war. Beards, clothes and bodies weren't so neat and clean back then. They had saved each other's lives and it forged a bond neither had forgotten. When Rick got into politics and came to Daryl for help, Daryl had been reluctant. He knew he didn't have the personality for politics – he was no good with tact and diplomacy – but when Rick explained what he needed, Daryl was on board. This was work he could do and he was happy to do it for Rick Grimes.

Vice President Shane Walsh was at the foot of the table and as far as Daryl was concerned, that was the best place for him. The VP position was filler even though it was a heartbeat from the big seat. Daryl didn't care for Walsh and the feeling might have been mutual if Walsh was aware of how close Daryl was to Grimes. Daryl was content to operate behind the scenes and off the radar. Few people knew who he was or what he did. But Daryl understood why Walsh was there. Compromises had to be made and Walsh could deliver certain votes so Grimes had picked him as his running mate.

Daryl decided to check out everyone at the cabinet meeting in order of their succession to the presidency. Deanna Monroe came after the VP but she wasn't present because Speaker of the House wasn't a cabinet position. Neither was the President pro tempore of the Senate, Hershel Greene, an older white-haired gent who was a family friend of Grimes. His daughters had more personal roles. The older girl Maggie was First Lady Lori Grimes' chief of staff and the younger daughter Beth was little Judy's nanny. Right after Rick got elected, Lori got pregnant. Their son Carl was ten then and they'd always planned a bigger family but there was no denying that the timing was good. Rick was the youngest president ever and he had a young son and now a baby daughter. The whole country loved it.

Beth Greene's boyfriend Noah was assigned as security for Carl. There were a lot of connections like that in any presidential administration. The top man liked to have people he knew and trusted around him and Rick was no exception. Daryl agreed with the idea as long as they were qualified and there was no conflict of interest. Grimes had known most members of his cabinet for some years but friendship didn't get them their jobs. The president nominated candidates but they had to be confirmed by the Senate.

Secretary of State Morgan Jones was next followed by Michonne Gurira, Treasury. Daryl and Rick had history with her. Jones and Gurira were African American, smart and competent. Defense was Carol Peletier with a short no-nonsense haircut. She wore twin set sweaters and made cookies for her daughter Sophia's school bake sales. Daryl was one of the few people who knew what she was really capable of. Attorney General Andrea Harrison was blonde and beautiful and had poor taste in men. Daryl knew this for a fact since some years back she had an affair with a psychopath and once partook of afternoon delight with the VP. But she was good at her job. So was Daryl which is why he knew about the VP and the psychopath.

Tyreese Williams was Secretary of the Interior and Juan Morales of Agriculture. Secretary of Commerce was Aaron Marquand, openly gay and living with his longtime partner Eric. Daryl was gay but not open about it. Not because he was trying to hide it but because he wasn't open about anything.

Next was Tara Chambler, Labor and Edwin Jenner, Health and Human Services. Jacqui Prescott was Housing and Urban Development, Theodore Douglas, Transportation and Eugene Porter, Energy. The cast was rounded out with Rosita Espinosa, Education, Sasha Williams, Veteran Affairs and Abraham Ford, Homeland Security.

Fifteen cabinet members not including Grimes and Walsh. Eight men, seven women, six African Americans, two Hispanics and a homosexual. In a pear tree. Daryl felt like he could rewrite that twelve days of Christmas song. But Grimes' choices were good and his approval rating high. No Asians in the cabinet but Grimes' new speech writer was Korean via Michigan. Twenty-five which was young but he was sharp and quick-witted, a good-looking man who Daryl suspected was gay. Or maybe hoped because Daryl had been spending way too much time thinking about him. They had met only once, soon after Glenn started two months before, but had seen each other briefly a few times since then. If Daryl was vain he might even think he'd been eye fucked by the kid. If Glenn was vain he might think the same about Daryl. Grimes had always delivered speeches well but lately Daryl thought they were better than before. Glenn Rhee had a way with words which wasn't surprising considering his degrees in communication and political science. Daryl was slowly convincing himself that he should make a move. He'd held back because he was a ghost around here, rarely seen and never heard from. It would be hard to keep a relationship under wraps. Going for Glenn might make Daryl visible.

The meeting ended and everyone filed out. Daryl went back to Dale's office. Dale showed him into the Oval Office and Grimes entered a moment later. He extended a hand and said with a smile, "Deputy."

Daryl shook and replied, "Sheriff."

It was a little joke. Sheriff was the secret service code word for Grimes. You might think Deputy would be the code word for the VP but that would be too obvious and code words had to be random. Rick had called Daryl his true deputy and it stuck.

Grimes got right to it: "A small fact-finding mission has gone tits up."

"How small?"

"One person."

Daryl nodded. Didn't sound too bad.

Grimes added, "In North Korea."

Daryl's gaze sharpened and his stomach clenched. Glenn hadn't been at his desk when Daryl passed his office and he was almost always at his desk. Circumstantial evidence but Daryl's instincts were honed.

"It's my new speech writer Glenn Rhee," Grimes confirmed.

"Why is a civilian involved?" It was a legitimate question but Daryl worked to keep his tone nonjudgmental.

"It needed to be completely unofficial for obvious reasons. No military or intelligence involvement. Glenn was born here but he speaks Korean. He's young and smart and he wanted to do it. I thought it was worth the risk. And so far it is. They don't know anything. They suspect but they don't know. They're willing to let him go so we need to get him out quickly and quietly before their suspicions solidify."

"They'll kill him if they get to that point."

Grimes nodded. "But they're reluctant to take that step. There have been enough incidents over the years that one more might not be a big deal. On the other hand, one more unwarranted action could be the one that backfires on them."

"They could make it an unfortunate accident."

"This is why you need to get there immediately, get Glenn and get out before they have time to decide to do that."

"How did he get in?"

"From China. A tour group across the northern border."

"Am I expected?"

"Yes, but you'll get there through back channels. Fly to China and then on to Pyongyang. You're a consular official showing up to escort a scared young tourist who did nothing wrong and was detained for unknown reasons. You want to prevent an escalation of a volatile situation. Military jet is waiting for you at Andrews."

Daryl drove straight to Andrews Air Force Base. He always had a go bag in his vehicle with money and a change of clothes. He took the money belt and left the clothes except for one item. This should be a quick trip in and out. If the trip took a turn for the worse he wouldn't have time or inclination to change anyway. An assortment of weapons was locked in a hidden compartment but he wouldn't be allowed weapons in North Korea and a consular official wouldn't be carrying. Not that North Korea would believe he was only a consular official but everybody would be playing their part in hopes of making this problem go away. It was the grown-up version of a Let's Pretend game for kids.

Daryl was in the air five minutes after he boarded. Military transport was no frills. It was a way to get from one place to another as fast as possible. In this case twelve hours instead of the fourteen hours a commercial flight would take. He made a call to discuss arrangements. After that he worked through possible scenarios in his head and then tried to nap. Daryl hated the wasted time on his part and the thought of Glenn in custody but at least the time was being well-spent by somebody else.

In Beijing he was wanded at a private security checkpoint and transferred to a small plane. It took off as soon as he was aboard and strapped in. Two hours later he was wanded again in a restricted area of Pyongyang Sunan International Airport and met by an unsmiling woman with hair pulled back severely. "Dawn Lerner, attaché at the Swedish embassy."

The U.S. had no formal relations with North Korea so Sweden protected U.S. interests in consular matters. Lerner had been assigned to facilitate Glenn Rhee's release to Daryl. Actually to Daryl's legend for this operation. He was traveling as Mark Norman, an alias he had used before and was comfortable with. His passport and deep cover history was all in order.

"Mr. Rhee was detained twenty-four hours ago. His camera was confiscated but I understand there was nothing incriminating on it. I saw him once twelve hours ago to inform him that you were on your way. He was anxious but unhurt." She didn't ask if Glenn really was a spy. It was irrelevant to her job and she was playing her part like everybody else. Lerner drove them to an anonymous looking building. Not a public police station. Something more secret and less friendly than the department that dealt with citizens. And from what Daryl knew they weren't all that friendly to their own citizens.

Daryl was shown to a small room with a table and a chair where Glenn was seated.

"I'm Mark Norman with the U.S. State Department." Daryl wanted to get his alias out there before Glenn could break his cover.

Glenn jumped up and came over to hug Daryl. This wasn't the reaction of the cool-headed young man Daryl had seen in the West Wing but it was right for a scared kid. They weren't supposed to know each other so Glenn whispered, "Daryl! You came for me."

Daryl whispered back, "A couple of times, yeah, but don't get cocky about it." Relief at seeing Glenn unharmed made words bypass Daryl's internal governor.

Glenn looked puzzled for a second then laughed softly as he got it. "I didn't expect a sex joke to be the first thing you said."

Daryl held Glenn away from him and looked him over. His lips looked bruised. Daryl didn't think he'd been punched, it was probably a slap but it made Daryl mad. If this kid's lips were going to be bruised, Daryl wanted his own mouth to be responsible. "You all right?"

"I'm fine. When can we go home?"

"Now. You met Dawn Lerner? She's waiting for us. I don't know all the arrangements yet but we'll find out."

A few minutes later Daryl, Glenn and Lerner were escorted out the back of the building. The guards who accompanied them never spoke and the door closed firmly behind them.

"We going to the Swedish embassy?" Daryl asked.

"Negative. They want both of you gone immediately. I believe they regret this incident and wish to avoid publicity. We'll walk two blocks to a secure location where we'll meet someone who will drive us to the border so there will be no paper trail that an air flight would create. They want this over as soon as possible."

"Suits us."

They walked through an alley and across the street. Daryl looked around without seeming to stare. Besides a few signs in Korean it was hard to tell they were in a foreign country. There were no people or vehicles near. Daryl guessed the locals avoided this place. Lerner aimed a remote at an overhead door as they approached. It slid up smoothly and they entered a bare concrete room the size of a double garage. It was empty except for a trash can in one corner. The door dropped behind them and Lerner put the remote in her left pocket and removed a phone. She made a call and then announced to Daryl and Glenn, "Five minutes out."

Daryl felt his tension easing but he didn't relax. This was good because Lerner gave herself away. She put the phone in her left pocket with the remote. Why not separate pockets to keep them from jostling together? A small thing but spy types tended to be aware of stuff in their pockets that could make noise like keys and coins and remotes and phones. And why put the phone away? She might have reason to call or receive if the driver was delayed. Did her hands need to be free for something else? Daryl hadn't suspected her exactly but he was always prepared for the unexpected and this wasn't completely unexpected. Apparently there had been enough time for North Korea to decide an accident to a tourist was worth the risk of an international incident. Lerner brought a gun with silencer from her right pocket. Daryl was already moving, pushing Glenn down and lying on top of him. The bullet hit Daryl's back and the impact vibrated through the vest, almost numbing him. Good thing he brought it with him from the go bag. He rolled over, keeping Glenn beneath him. Daryl didn't have a gun but he wasn't weaponless. A hidden sheath released a fiberglass knife into his hand and he threw it at Lerner. It stuck in her neck and she fell, dropping the gun. Daryl was on his feet. He picked up the gun and placed it against her head.

"Talk. You're not acting alone. They wouldn't leave it to one person. Something might go wrong. Like this."

Lerner's hands were around the knife, not to pull it out but to hold it in place. Blood bubbled around the entry. If she removed it, she would bleed out, but she was still defiant. "I made a mistake but the next one won't. My partner will eat you alive."

"Tell me who it is. What's waiting for us?"

She shook her head but only slightly so the knife wouldn't dislodge. Daryl knew he wouldn't get anything more from her. He went to the trash can. It was empty but there was a plastic liner. He took the liner and moved to her head. He could tell she knew what was coming but she didn't struggle as he slid the bag over her head and under her body. If she moved she'd die sooner and the instinct for survival is strong. When she was as contained as possible he grasped the knife handle through the plastic and pulled it out, careful not to let the blade cut the bag. He heard the blood spray against the plastic, a muffled scream and some minor thrashing of limbs, a gurgling noise and then silence. Daryl had been sure he hit her carotid and this was confirmed when she was dead a minute later. Still working from the outside, he moved the knife down her body until he could reach in from the end. It was coated with blood. He wiped it on her pant legs which were relatively clean and slid the knife back in its sheath.

Daryl looked up at Glenn who was on his feet staring in horror and fascination at the scene before him. There was no time to talk about it. Daryl told Glenn to bring the trash can. Daryl lifted the end of the bag so the blood wouldn't flow out and folded Lerner's legs in. He picked her up and felt blood slosh in the bottom of the bag around her head. He deposited her in the can and carried it back to the corner. He looked at his watch. One minute out. He checked Lerner's gun to be sure the bullet she shot him with wasn't the only one. Full clip. The gun went into his pocket. Daryl's mind was moving all the while. Was it the driver? Or someone else in the vehicle? Would they try right away or wait awhile?

"Are you Superman?" Glenn asked. "Because there's a bullet hole in the back of your jacket."

"Yeah, I can stop a speeding bullet with Kevlar."

By the time the door went up Daryl was leaning toward a later ambush, away from the city and out of sight. A black SUV with tinted windows drove in and the door went down. The driver's window slid down. Not much of his face was visible because the guy was wearing dark glasses and a cap pulled low. But something about the nose and jaw and especially the set of the mouth tugged at Daryl's memory. And something Lerner said about getting eaten alive. He'd thought it was a throwaway line meaning he was in trouble and out of his league. But now Daryl remembered Afghanistan and whispers of atrocities that were quickly hushed up. He and Rick had seen Gareth only twice and known him not well at all but they agreed that if the cannibalism rumor was true, Gareth was the sick fuck behind it. Daryl was surprised by Dawn Lerner. She had looked fairly humorless. Apparently she saved it all up for her final words.

Gareth looked around the empty garage. There was no recognition on his face. Daryl wasn't sure if Gareth didn't remember him or if he was acting like a stranger in case Daryl didn't remember Gareth. Might as well play along for now.

"I was expecting three passengers. Where's the woman?"

"She's gone," Glenn blurted.

"She used the phone, told us to wait five minutes and then she left," Daryl explained.

Gareth's mouth tightened. Daryl read this as anger that his partner left him on his own. He could almost hear Gareth's thoughts. If the job didn't get finished, Gareth wouldn't get paid. It would be tricky taking care of two men on his own but he had handled worse situations than this. Something flickered behind Gareth's eyes and Daryl pulled the gun just as Gareth's hand started to move.

"Hands on the wheel."

Gareth complied.

"Hey, hey, Gourmet."

Gareth peered at Daryl. "Archer. Should have known you'd still be with Ringleader. But not as openly as Samurai."

"She cleans up better than I do."

"So that bitch Lerner ran out on me."

"It was her blood that ran out. She's in the trash can."

"How is this going to play? You need me to get away."

"I don't think so. Everybody wants this kept quiet. That's why you're involved, so no one else needs to be. Bad time to have a rep for working alone."

"Not this time. Remember Lerner in the trash can."

"Hired by you because you needed somebody as a public face. Woman attaché looks like less of a threat."

Gareth smirked. "You're wrong. Which you'll find out if you leave here without me."

"I'll take my chances. I'm not alone either. You're too dangerous to take along. Or leave alive."

Gareth's eyes showed panic as he realized he wasn't going to talk his way out of it. "Wait …"

Daryl just shook his head and nined him in the heart. He fell forward against the steering wheel and Daryl put a second bullet in his head.

Glenn was shaking but still upright. Daryl opened the back of the SUV. There was a bundle of heavy rolled up plastic. He unrolled it.

"Are those body bags?" Glenn had come forward.

"Yep. And we happen to have two bodies. I bet there's one more stashed somewhere." Daryl found another bag under the driver's seat. "Looks like Lerner was gonna be dead no matter what." Daryl took a bag to the driver's door. "Help me get him bagged." Daryl let Glenn handle pulling Gareth's legs out and into the bottom of the bag. Daryl got the upper body in and zipped the bag. They stowed it in the back of the SUV.

"Let's get the trash can over here and we'll transfer Lerner." Daryl could have handled Gareth and Lerner on his own but he wanted to keep Glenn occupied.

Glenn looked squeamish. "Why can't we leave her here? Why can't we leave both of them? What if we're stopped with two dead bodies in the back?"

"It's a risk," Daryl agreed. "But I think we better clean up as we go. If someone checks this place after they see the SUV leave, we want them to think four people drove away."

"What about their phones? Maybe they're supposed to check in."

"Unlikely. Usually there's no communication until the op is completed. I'll keep Gareth's phone just in case. I'm not reaching in that bag for Lerner's unless it starts ringing." Daryl was proud of Glenn. He was doing fine helping and he asked good questions.

With the body bags stashed in back and Gareth's phone in Daryl's pocket, Daryl wiped a little blood off the steering wheel and they were ready to roll.

"Where to? We don't know where they were taking us."

"They were taking us somewhere to kill us. Or maybe they were going to kill us here and take our bodies somewhere. We're going to drive slowly away, out of the city and head for South Korea."

"It's only about 85 miles to the border but the roads are terrible. There aren't many cars here so they don't keep up the maintenance."

"I was going to go off road but that will slow us down. Even without much traffic, we might have a better chance just making a run for it. Officials probably use this type of vehicle. If anyone checks, we could make it to the border before they take action."

Daryl made the tail a few blocks from the garage. There was some traffic but more like a small U.S. city not the capital of the country. There were more bicycles than cars. Daryl thought about heading north out of Pyongyang to give the impression of going to China but circling back would take time and he decided a fake-out wasn't worth the effort. So he went south and was rewarded by the tail turning off a mile outside the city. Traffic was sparse. If anyone followed now it would have to be an open tail. Apparently the tail was just to make sure they were on their way because no other vehicle appeared.

On the Interstate back home Daryl could have done eighty-five miles in less than an hour but Glenn was right about the state of the roads here. Daryl drove fast enough to pass other traffic but not fast enough to blow past them at obvious speed.

"Why did two Americans try to kill us?"

Daryl glanced at Glenn. He was getting it together and thinking over what had happened. "They're mercenaries."

"I thought North Korea was going to let us go."

"Must have changed their minds. It makes sense that they hired it out. They wanted it to look like an accident and if two U.S. citizens told the story, it was more likely to be believed."

"You knew the man but not the woman?"

"Yep."

"You called him Gourmet."

"His name is Gareth. I didn't really know him but I heard about him. In Afghanistan he was always talking about fancy food and how to cook it. All of us talked about food we missed like pizza and cheeseburgers but Gareth was crazy for cuisine. And there were rumors that he was into absorbing the power of his enemies by eating their flesh and drinking their blood."

Glenn's face went a little green.

"So this is what you do for President Grimes? Wet work?"

Daryl grinned. This kid watched too many spy movies. "I fix situations for him. Whatever needs to be done." Daryl hoped Glenn wouldn't be put off by what that entailed once he had a chance to think about it.

"What you said to me back in that room. Were you trying to get my mind off the danger?"

"Yeah, I figured admitting I jerk off thinking about you would relax you."

Glenn smiled. "So it's true?"

"A couple of times, yeah, but don't get cocky about it." Daryl repeated his line from before.

"Why didn't you say anything before? We met two months ago and we've seen each other since then."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I was the new guy and you were a shadow. I asked practically everybody in the West Wing about you, separately. Nobody knew anything. If they ever compare notes they're going to realize I thought about you all the time."

Daryl looked at Glenn more closely. He was flushed and his eyes were shiny. "I thought you'd be freaking out at the sight of blood and violence but you have the other reaction."

"What's that?"

"Turned on."

"Maybe a little. Does that make me a sick person?"

"Kid, if we had the time, I'd pull over and fuck you right now."

"It wouldn't take long …"

"If it was just a matter of avoiding North Korean security I'd risk it but we're on a deadline."

Glenn looked disappointed.

"Anticipation," Daryl said. "We'll enjoy it more later. I came to get you because I thought I'd missed my chance. It wasn't for Rick."

"It's strange to hear you call the President 'Rick'."

"I don't in public. But we go way back. We served together."

"Is he Ringleader?" Glenn asked excitedly.

"Yeah."

"And Samurai is a woman?"

"We were a three-man team in Afghanistan. Three-person in our case. Samurai is Michonne Gurira."

"The Secretary of the Treasury!"

"Rick is loyal to his friends."

"And his friends are loyal to him."

"That's how it works."

Nobody followed them and nobody stopped them. There could be trouble ahead but maybe North Korea had changed their mind again and decided to let them go since their plan failed. That two people were dead didn't matter. They were U.S. citizens killed by another U.S. citizen. Not North Korea's problem. That the U.S. would know, unofficially, what happened also wouldn't affect their decision. Most governments had dirty little secrets of their own and about each other.

The Demilitarized Zone between North and South Korea was in fact heavily militarized. Daryl went off road several miles before they reached the DMZ. He got out his phone, checked GPS and made a course correction. A few miles farther on he pulled into a stand of trees and said, "We walk from here. We might even crawl. You stay behind me and step exactly where I step. There are mines."

It turned out that crawling wasn't necessary but they were slow and careful through the two and a half miles of the zone. There were guard posts and roving patrols but it wasn't that hard to sneak through if you knew a safe route among the mines. Daryl led them through a hilly area which descended to swampland. The hills gave them cover across the more open marsh.

A hundred yards into South Korea, Daryl walked southeast. Glenn followed without question. The area was deserted but there was a wooded spot ahead. Daryl stopped under a tree and looked up. A big man dropped lightly beside him. They slapped shoulders and turned to Glenn.

The man spoke to Daryl: "Gone native? Or just gone for a native?"

"My parents were from South Korea," Glenn said, emphasizing the direction.

"Like anybody could tell the difference," the man replied.

"This is Glenn Rhee," Daryl said. "My brother Merle."

"You must be the reason Daryl said we had a deadline."

"Kind of wish you hadn't met it. I would have liked an excuse to cross over and rain down some shit on that sorry excuse for a country."

"Transport?" Daryl asked.

"Other side of the trees."

"Let's head out."

"I need to go before we leave," Glenn said.

Daryl waved a hand. "Pick a tree."

Glenn disappeared. Almost immediately there was a muffled shriek and he reappeared with his jeans unzipped. "There's a scary guy back there."

"Not that scary," Merle objected. "He's dead."

"Still looks scary with a patch over one eye and a bullet hole in the other one!"

Daryl looked at Merle. "The 'Guvnor'?" He gave it an English accent.

"His ambush didn't work. That British bastard won't be sleeping with my woman again."

"You didn't even know her then. You gonna take out the Veep too?"

"Prob'ly not. But I could. You have any trouble?"

"Two. You ever run across Dawn Lerner?"

"Nope. But I heard she's wound awful tight."

"Being dead loosened her up."

"No loss there. Who else?"

"Gareth the Gourmet."

Merle's face lit up. "Hope he's dead and not just hurt."

"He's dead."

"This has been a good op. Rescued the little prince plus three righteous kills."

Glenn had been listening, fascinated. He didn't bother to object to being called a little prince. "Do you know all the bad guys in the world?"

"Covert ops is a fairly small community," Daryl said. "You tend to come up against the same folks. Can't always kill them."

"But anything goes this time," Merle added with satisfaction. "We better throw the Guvnor in the back of the SUV. I woulda done it before but I didn't want him stinking it up."

They piled into another black SUV with tinted windows. The vehicle of choice for government in general not just covert operations. But so many citizens used them that the vehicle had become anonymous which made it an even better choice.

"Daryl had the coordinates to find you but how would you have found him?" Glenn asked Merle.

"Daryl's been chipped. Like a dog."

"Well, not exactly like a dog. I mean, it's got to be different for pets and humans, right?"

"Doc Greene did it privately. We didn't want the government to be able to read him."

"Doc Greene? You mean the prez pro tem?"

"He's a friend," Daryl said. "And a veterinarian. He used a GPS chip from before standardization so most RFIDs can't track it."

"Should he do stuff like that? He's a Senator."

Merle snorted at Glenn's naiveté.

"It was off the books," Daryl said. "No conflict with his position. It's the way the world works, kid."

Merle drove them to Yongsan Army Base in a district of Seoul where he had been stationed some years back. They left the SUV in the motor pool and boarded military transport. When they were in the air Merle made a call to tell a buddy about the package in the cargo area of the SUV. Merle said he'd file a report later and ended the call.

"You're not gonna do the paperwork." Daryl made it a statement not a question.

"Course not."

"Hope that wasn't a close friend you lied to."

"He knows me. Besides, I'm not in the Army anymore."

"What do you do?" Glenn asked.

"I help get Chinese kids out of North Korea."

"I'm not Chinese!"

"How'd you get to North Korea?"

Glenn was silent.

Merle laughed. "You took the train as a tourist from China. Close enough for me."

Glenn sighed. "How did you know the way through the DMZ mines?"

"I did some reconnaissance there recently." Merle raised his right arm. "Damn near lost my hand."

"So you work for President Grimes, too?"

"Fuck no. Didn't vote for him neither."

"You don't vote," Daryl interjected.

"Why don't you like him?" Glenn asked.

"He handcuffed me once. He was an MP before he got into intelligence."

"Why did he handcuff you?"

It was Merle's turn to be silent.

Daryl grinned. "Yeah, we're not talking about that."

"So who do you work for?" Glenn persisted.

"CIA."

"Culinary Institute of America?"

Even Merle laughed at that.

"I thought the CIA was suits sitting in offices analyzing data."

"That's what they like the public to think. A lot of that data is electronic, from satellites and closed circuit feeds. But some of it is direct intel from field operatives."

"Wet work," Glenn said with wide eyes.

Merle turned to Daryl. "Your boy watches too many spy movies."

Daryl nodded. "But he's right. He saw it." He turned to Glenn. "You're a field op, too. Dryer than us but you know what it's like to be out there."

Glenn got serious fast. "I want to thank both of you. I screwed up and you risked yourselves to save me."

"Most fun I've had for awhile," Merle said.

"You did all right," Daryl said. "With a little training you'd be real good."

"I'm out of the biz. Once was enough for me. I'm happy putting words in the President's mouth."

"You get something he can use? Lerner told me they took your camera but there wasn't anything on it."

"That camera was tourist stuff for cover. I have a memory chip concealed."

"Where'd you hide it?"

"Where the sun don't shine."

Merle cackled. "In that case I bet Daryl can find it."

Glenn

It's two days before Daryl and I have alone time. First the long hours back to DC but that was nice because we talked while Merle slept. Then Daryl and I were debriefed separately.

Finally we go to my condo in Alexandria. Daryl has a small apartment near the White House but we want to get a little farther away from work.

I slide my hand inside Daryl's pants, eager to feel his meat, but there's less coverage than the boxers I expected. "A jockstrap?"

"Extra support," Daryl mutters. "Never know when a situation will require action."

"Well, this situation requires search and rescue. I'll search for your cock and rescue it from captivity."

Opening his pants reveals Cocksox pouch underwear which I pull away from Daryl's hips with one hand and with the other reach in and down. And my fingers keep reaching because there's a whole lot of Daryl to find in here. The bulge in the pouch made me think he was all bunched together but no, he's just big. The heel of my hand is against the base of his shaft and my middle finger barely reaches the tip.

"No wonder you need extra support."

I squeeze as much as I can get my hand around. There's more than a minute ago because Daryl is getting erect. The elastic strains as I pull it away so his cock can push up between us. It looks embarrassed, all flushed red with blood. I close my hand around it and tug from the base up. Now it looks angry. The shaft is dark red and the head is purple. Then the tears start, milky drops bubbling from the swollen slit. Daryl groans. I kiss it and make it better. Then I suck it and make it really good.

* * *

Later Daryl suggests that he check whether the memory chip got removed.

"I believe it did but you better take a look."

"I don't need to see. I'll use my triple D."

"What's that?"

"Dick detecting device. I put it in and move it around and it feels for anything in there. But it can be dangerous."

"It might explode inside me?"

"Exactly."

"I'm willing to risk it if you are."

* * *

A few weeks later we both have a week off and Daryl invites me to his childhood home in Georgia. It's been an amazing month together. We're already making plans for the future.

"Assuming Rick gets re-elected we've got six more years in DC. I'd like to come back home after that."

Daryl sounds hesitant. He probably thinks I'm a big city boy who won't want to live in small town Georgia. He's wrong.

"Sounds good. POTUS asked me to ghostwrite a book about his White House years and I can do that anywhere. If it goes well I'll write his biography eventually. And maybe some fiction. I have an idea for an adventure series about a presidential fixer. Inspired by a true story."

"That's classified."

"I'll include the all persons fictitious disclaimer. You can pick your new name."

"You gonna use Merle?"

"Of course. He's a great character but not as the hero. A little of Merle goes a long way."

That evening we're on the sofa watching TV. I get distracted when Daryl pushes up my tee shirt to play with my nipples. He knows that's my favorite foreplay. I'm about to suggest moving to the bedroom where there's lube and more room for the activities the lube will be needed for when an image over Daryl's shoulder reclaims my attention. A blonde woman arriving at the Kennedy Center.

"Hey, there's the AG Andrea Harrison …" My voice trails off as I recognize the man with her. "That's Merle! Is your brother her bodyguard?"

"Andrea is Merle's woman."

"But that means she slept with the Guvnor. And the Veep."

"The Veep was just once," Daryl explains. "Election sex at the end of the presidential campaign."

"What about the Guvnor?"

"That affair is harder to justify. Maybe she was trying to get information from him."

"And now she's with your brother."

"Hard to believe out of three guys Merle is the best choice."

"I'm putting this in the book!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Check out GobsmackApplejack's jacket cover of Glenn's book!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3148127/chapters/11845193)


	16. Predestination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Predestination: fate, destiny.
> 
> Daryl and Glenn are meant to be.

Daryl 

You and Merle are on a fishing trip to Michigan. You prefer hunting but Merle likes to fish and he's the older brother so on an out-of-state trip, it's his choice. You don't mind. The two of you drove up in one day, taking turns behind the wheel to save on a motel overnight. You're renting a boat for three days and staying in a little cabin off the main drag which is cheaper than waterfront. Then it'll be back to Georgia to resume your lives.

You wait on the dock while Merle arranges for the boat. A family is getting aboard their boat. Looks like Mom, Pop, a son and two daughters. As you get closer you see they're Asians which is interesting because that's outside your experience. You're careful not to stare at the boy wearing shorts, tee shirt, ball cap and deck shoes. Although you'd like to take your time looking if the kid was a few years older. Odds are he's not gay anyway. Hard to tell his age, he might look mature for 14 or young for 18. Doesn't matter because he's too young for your 24.

He looks up then and your eyes meet and something shifts inside your chest making you feel off balance. He smiles and there's something flirtatious in it. You can't help smiling back but you tell yourself not to read in things you want to be true. He's a friendly teenager excited to be on an outing with his family.

But your legs are still carrying you forward and he moves a few steps toward you.

"Hi! Going out on the water?"

"Yeah. Me and my brother are fishing."

"Are you from Michigan?"

"Nope, just here for a few days. You?"

"We live in Ann Arbor. We come here every year."

Pop calls out, "Glenn" at the same time Merle says, "Daryl" from behind you.

The kid smiles again. "Good luck fishing!"

"Thanks. Y'all have a nice time."

The kid waves as their boat pulls away.

"Watch it, Daryl. That kid ain't old enough to lick your dick."

"He might be technically but don't worry. I got no ambition to be a registered sex offender."

Glenn's boat is berthed and the family is nowhere in sight when you and Merle return late in the afternoon. You don't see them the next two days so this must have been a one-day deal for them. You and Merle go back home. You hook up a few times over the next five years but nothing serious. You can't help wondering how Glenn grew up. There are some Asians in nearby Atlanta but you don't pursue them. It would be disloyal which you recognize is a ridiculous feeling to have.

You've been seeing somebody on and off for eight months. A nice enough guy four years younger. The sex is okay for you but you're pretty sure it's better for him and that you mean more to him than he does to you. You should end it before he starts thinking what you have is a real relationship.

Glenn 

A stranger named Daryl has spoiled me for anyone else. I'm only 17 so I'll get over it but I wish we had more than 10 minutes together. I've always been aware of my difference but didn't know what it meant until I was about 14. Growing up Asian in Michigan is different enough to confuse the issue. I was late with puberty so it took me a while to realize I'm gay. I had sex with a boy last year and there's no confusion anymore. I just wish I was older because Daryl – I love that name – is a man. His shoulders are broad and his eyes are very blue beneath shaggy brown hair.

My family took off in a boat and Daryl and his brother went a different direction in theirs and we didn't see each other again. Pop and I would be happy to motor around the lake all day but mid-afternoon is enough for Mom and my sisters so we head back. The berth for Daryl's boat is still empty. He had a southern accent. There's a pickup truck in the parking lot with a gun rack and Georgia plates.

My senior year starts a few weeks later. I do well on the SATs, not good enough for Ivy League but I'll get an academic scholarship. Mom and Pop are thrilled when I choose the University of Georgia. They're looking forward to visiting me when it's cold in Michigan. Moving me into the dorm at Athens in August is their only warm weather trip south.

I get my bachelors in counseling and education and make a good start on my masters in four and a half years. I want to start earning but there are few openings in the middle of the school year. I take a position as guidance counselor at Benford High School outside Atlanta. I'll also teach Korean foreign language if there are any takers. The principal doesn't mind that I won't complete my masters, which is usually a requirement for counseling, until summer. I'm already planning my career and this opportunity suits me. A couple of years in a small rural setting will provide a valuable perspective.

The school arranges a meet and greet one evening over the Christmas break to introduce me to the rest of the faculty. When I arrive a big man is running a floor polisher at the end of the corridor. He's wearing earbuds and doesn't look up. There's something familiar about him.

I go to the gymnasium and am welcomed by the principal, Morgan Jones, who I met before. He begins taking me around and that's when I see Daryl. Almost six years but he hasn't changed. I have. He won't remember me. That was his brother down the hall. My thoughts are almost incoherent.

Daryl looks like he's seen a ghost. He recognizes me! Our lips move at the same time and I know we're saying each other's name. Morgan Jones looks surprised and asks if we know each other. We don't but we both say yes, that we met a few years ago. His name is Daryl Dixon and he teaches industrial arts and driver's ed. This is his third year at Benford.

English, math, science, history – I'll have to sort out names and faces later. Everyone is friendly and I get it together enough to remember the last two women I meet. Lori Grimes is the media coordinator. The position used to be called librarian but the library is now a modern media and technology center. Lori's husband is the sheriff and their son Carl is a freshman. Carol Peletier teaches home ec and family living and her daughter Sophia is also a freshman. She made the cookies for tonight and they are darned good. Without appearing to watch him, I notice Daryl eat two openly and sneak a third one.

As the evening wraps up Daryl's brother comes in and scoops up the last few cookies and snags a cup of coffee. Daryl takes me over to him.

"My brother Merle Dixon. Merle, this is the new teacher Glenn Rhee."

Merle looks me over. There's a hint of recognition in his expression. He says to Daryl, "He's old enough now."

Daryl flushes. What's that about?

"We should talk," I say to Daryl. He nods.

The brothers drove in together and Merle is ready to go. I offer to drop Daryl at home. Merle locks up the gym and leaves. Daryl and I sit in my car.

I start with the obvious: "This is an incredible coincidence."

"I thought about you but I never expected to see you again."

"I came to college in Georgia because of you but I didn't really think I'd ever find you."

"You were a kid last time. I wondered what you'd be like."

"I hope you're not disappointed."

"Not hardly. The way you look, you must have a boyfriend."

I hesitate. "Yes, I've been seeing someone for awhile. How about you?"

"Same. Do you live together?"

"No. I've never been able to make that commitment."

"Me neither. Mine is over."

"Just like that?"

"Yeah. I've been thinking of ending it."

"Me, too. The relationship hasn't developed and now it never will."

"Are you sure we're gonna be together?"

"Aren't you?"

"Yeah." Daryl pauses. "A little afraid it won't last because I want it so much."

"If it doesn't, it won't be for lack of trying."

We lean toward each other and our mouths meet. Our lips press and mold to each other and our tongues explore.

When we break apart I say, "That's it until we're both disentangled."

"Okay. This is December 28. Do we do it before New Year's or after?"

"I don't like to do it so suddenly before New Year's but I can't pretend nothing has changed. And I'd like to start the New Year with you."

"So, sometime in the next two days, and we'll get together on New Year's Eve."

It sounds cold-blooded to so easily decide to cut people from our lives but it's also appropriate because this thing between us is hot-blooded and everything else pales in comparison.

Daryl 

There's a message from Eric, received when your phone was off while you and Glenn talked. You call him back and say the meeting ran long and you'll see him at his place in Atlanta tomorrow night. Eric has come to your house a few times but you didn't encourage it because you didn't want him to be part of your life in Benford.

The following night you hold him away when he wants to greet you with a kiss. He looks hurt but not suspicious because you've never been the touchy-feely type. It's not fair to compare his looks with Glenn but the truth is Eric is plain. He's pale with red hair and freckles. He's too nice for his own good and too nice for you. He's also needier than you're comfortable with.

"No easy way to say this," you begin and Eric's eyes widen. He knows what's coming now and that doesn't make you feel better. "I can't be with you anymore."

"You met someone else!"

You aren't sure if he picked up on something or is just guessing. You nod. "Somebody I knew years back."

"So we're over just like that?"

"I'm sorry. You deserve better than me."

Eric is crying, not loud sobs, just quiet tears. Jesus, you feel bad about this. You shouldn't have let it go so long but it was easy to drift along even though you knew Eric was more invested than you were. You get up and touch his shoulder. He rubs his head against your hand. You pat his hair awkwardly and mutter again that you're sorry. You tell him to take care of himself and then you leave.

You feel like shit and you deserve to feel this way. It's the price you owe for finding Glenn again. It's worth it but you hope Glenn didn't have to go through this.

Glenn 

It's late so I wait until morning to call Aaron and make arrangements to meet at his condo in Atlanta this evening. He's four years older, intelligent and fun. I wondered why we didn't connect more deeply. It's not like I was thinking of Daryl every minute but apparently he was in my subconscious.

Aaron is perceptive and he must have sensed something over the phone. He looks sad when I tell him I met an old friend but he takes our break-up well. I'm grateful that he made it easy for me. I hope things went as well for Daryl.

Merle is going out for New Year's Eve so Daryl and I stay in at their house. We talk at first, catching up on the years since that dock in Michigan. When we reach current events we agree not to discuss our exes, at least not right away. For now, this is about us. The TV is on for background noise. After the ball drops in Times Square we turn it off and go to bed.

The sex is exciting and arousing and sets my nerve endings on fire. I can tell Daryl is affected the same way. When we finish, lying together is just as good. This closeness is what I've been looking for since I was 17. We wake up early and do it all over again.

We shower and are having breakfast when Merle rolls in groggy and hung over. He disappears into his bedroom. Daryl and I go out. He shows me around their property. Their parents are dead and the brothers live in the house they grew up in which is two miles outside Benford. We walk into town instead of driving. A patrol car pulls up behind us and Daryl introduces me to the sheriff, Rick Grimes. He's heading home after a quick run through town to check that New Year's Eve high spirits mixed with alcoholic spirits didn't result in vandalism.

After he drives off I say, "I was planning on commuting from Atlanta but now I'm thinking of giving up my apartment and living here if there's anything available." I hope Daryl doesn't think I'm angling to move in with him. It's too soon plus he lives with Merle.

Daryl understands. He tells me there are a couple of houses for rent but if I don't need much space or want the bother of upkeep on a lot, the local vet Hershel Greene rents out studio apartments on the second floor of a building he owns. There's a bar and grill on the ground floor.

The next day I go see Doc Greene. Benford doesn't boast a motel so he does pretty well renting to relatives visiting locals. It's usually just a couple of nights or a week so he's happy to have one rented for the semester.

I settle down easily to life in Benford. As guidance counselor I meet with each student so I get to know them quickly. A number of kids opt for Korean foreign language. Some of them are there so they can learn to swear in another language but I tell them about the culture of the country and they get interested and actually start learning. Carol works Korean cuisine into a week of the home ec curriculum. The cafeteria cooks make rice and Korean barbecue. With the slightest encouragement my Mom would fly down to cook a Korean banquet for the whole school so I don't mention in my phone calls home that Benford High has embraced my heritage.

It gets around the town and school that Daryl and I are seeing each other. Principal Jones has an official word with us. He's happy that we're being professional and hopes we keep it up. No one seems especially interested that we're gay.

The semester flies by. I move back to the UGA campus in Athens for the summer to finish my master's degree and drive to Benford on weekends to see Daryl. When I move back to Benford for the new school year, Daryl and I live together and Merle takes my apartment above the bar.

"Might as well find out if you two are gonna go the distance," Merle announces. "We'll work something out later."

Merle comes over regularly for supper but he seems to like living alone and holding court at the back table downstairs in the bar.

Daryl 

Three kids are lounging against the car as you approach with a clipboard.

"Hey, Big D," Carl and Duane call out. Sophia doesn't greet you. She's at a tricky step of applying lip gloss.

"That's Mr. D to you." They can call you anything but Big D.

"We heard Glenn call you Big D," Carl says.

"That's private. He has his reasons."

"TMI." Sophia speaks.

"Huh?" "Why?" Carl and Duane are slow on the uptake.

"Can you be any more clueless?" Sophia asks scathingly.

Carl and Duane look at each other for a moment before the light breaks.

"Oh, yeah." "We get it." Their eyes drop to Daryl's crotch.

You sigh. It's your own fault for letting that comment slip out. "Stop thinking about stuff like that," you instruct the kids. To Carl and Duane: "It's too hard for you guys." To Sophia: "And too easy for you."

All three grin. You act grumpy a lot but don't mean it and the kids have got you figured out. You're a popular teacher, probably because you don't talk down to them. Mild insults sometimes but they seem to like that. And while you watch your language pretty close the occasional 'Hell' or 'Damn' slips out and no kid has ever reported you so maybe it makes them feel more adult that you don't act like their delicate ears never heard such words much less spoke them, and worse.

"Okay, who wants to go first?"

"I know how to drive," Carl announces.

"Let me make a note that Carl doesn't need to drive. More time for Duane and Sophia."

Carl's bragging backfired and he looks forlorn. You take pity on him. "You each get fifteen minutes. You know the basics but you gotta learn the right way to do everything. Saddle up, Duane." You toss him the keys.

You get in the front passenger seat and Carl and Sophia get in back. Duane jumps in the driver's side and starts the car. Before he can put it in gear you say, "Forget something?"

Duane buckles his seat belt.

"What else?"

Duane looks blank. Sophia says, "Mirrors."

"Right. And adjust the seat. Impress the folks at the DMV."

The kids are fifteen and this is their sophomore year. They'll turn sixteen next spring and are excited to upgrade from a learner's permit to full license. They've been driving some sort of vehicle – scooters or farm equipment – since they were twelve. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing and the DMV testers like to take overconfident teenagers down a peg.

The kids take turns tooling through the countryside and arrive back at the high school in time for lunch. You can tell they loved it. They think it's the best class ever. Might as well inject a little reality into their lives.

"You won't just be driving for fun. Parallel parking next week. We'll also be changing tires and the oil."

They still think it's cool. They're out of the classroom on a perfect fall day. If there's ice this winter, you'll let them spin donuts in the parking lot.

You go to the cafeteria where kids in line call out "Mr. D" and "Mr. Dixon" and let you go ahead of them. Faculty can always jump the line but you never do. It's your experience that if you get in line with the kids they'll let you go ahead so they can get rid of a teacher looking over their shoulder, and they like you for respecting them and not just moving ahead. As you take your tray some boys are roughhousing and bump you.

"Careful," you growl not very menacingly. "I want to eat this not wear it."

The kids laugh and make comments about the lousy food but they don't mean it. The lunch ladies are older local women, good cooks who spent their lives feeding their families and now that their kids are grown and gone, they miss cooking so they signed on at the high school. Lunch isn't high cuisine but it's always tasty although the kids feel obligated to disparage it. The cooks don't mind because the trays come back empty and that's good enough for them. Even the girls who are skinny and intend to stay that way eat a few bites before sharing the rest with the boys who are always looking for second helpings.

Glenn and Merle are sitting opposite each other at one end of the faculty table. There's a chair on the end. You hitch one leg over the back and slide down without pulling it out.

Glenn grins. "You survived."

"Who'd you draw?" Merle asks.

"Carl, Duane and Sophia."

"At least the girl has brains," Merle says.

"The boys are pretty smart," Glenn adds. "They're just hampered by hormones right now."

"The three of them remind me of Jimmy, Noah and Beth." You nod across the cafeteria at three seniors. "They all passed their first try. Maybe the new bunch will, too."

Amy, another senior, approaches. "Merle, Randall was showing off and fell against my locker and the door is jammed."

"Thanks for lettin' me know. You want me to beat him up for you?"

Amy giggles. "Get it open for me, please?"

"I'll be there in a minute."

Amy wanders off. Merle says, "Duty calls" and goes to dump his tray.

* * *

 Amy and Randall are waiting by her locker.

"Randall, the next time you jam a locker my hand is likely to jam your head."

"Sorry, man, lost my balance."

Amy leaves. Randall stays. "I was showing Enid a move. It didn't work." He sounds down about being clumsy in front of a girl.

"Wear a rubber, Randall."

"To show I'm thinking about her protection?" Randall nods. "That'll impress her, huh?"

"Maybe. But the main reason is you shouldn't reproduce, Randall."

"I don't want a baby!" Randall is horrified.

"Nobody wants that. So wear your rubbers when you're doing your rain dance."

Randall grins. His daddy has been a no-show since he was nine and he considers Merle an acceptable substitute. Merle thinks it's too bad his mama is kind of a toad and unlikely to attract a replacement.

* * *

 Meanwhile back at the faculty table you and Glenn watch Merle stride off.

"Merle has power he could only dream of," you say. "Lording it over high school kids."

Glenn defends his almost-brother-in-law. "He's surprisingly good with them. And an excellent custodian."

"He hasn't shamed me yet," you admit.

Who would have thought the Dixon brothers would end up working at the high school like a real-life 'Welcome Back Kotter' show? Mama had wanted one of her boys to be the first in the family to graduate high school. Merle, six years older than you, did that, just barely. Then her dream changed to wanting one of her boys to be the first in the family to go to college and Merle said it was your turn so you attended the local community college to make her happy because the cancer had taken hold by then. She lasted the whole four years on willpower alone and died the summer after you got your degree. Merle meanwhile had been working at the factory for ten years and you followed him there because the money was better than most other jobs. Three years later the factory was in trouble and started laying off last in, first out, and a year after that you were out of a job. But you had that degree and the high school had trouble attracting teachers to a small place so you got your teaching certificate and began teaching industrial arts, better known as shop class even though school officials are trying to upgrade the name. You also teach driver's ed and drive a bus and help coach because teachers in small schools wear a lot of hats. So do the students. In a big school there are enough kids for every activity but at Benford when the marching band plays at half-time during the Friday night football games only half the kids are in band uniforms. The others wear football, pep club and cheerleader outfits.

Two years into teaching the factory was still in trouble and closed down without a buyer and Merle was out of a job. The old janitor at the school retired and Merle was hired on. Merle was no one's idea of an adult who should be molding young minds but he settled in and does a good job especially in comparison to old Dale Horvath who was getting past it but didn't want to admit it. Merle wears biker boots and jeans and a wifebeater when he's down in his 'office' next to the boiler room. He pulls on a shirt for lunch and other excursions into public territory. Merle is a hero of sorts to several of the boys who think he's a rebel. Merle treats them with careless indifference but whenever there's a school play or other assembly that requires chairs set up in the gymnasium, he requests a couple of kids to help him. It gets them out of their last period twenty minutes early. Merle watches while they do the work. Amazingly, Principal Jones thinks this is an example of delegation and involving the students instead of Merle slacking off.

Shortly after being hired, Merle was called upon to supervise study hall in an emergency when Lori Grimes went into labor with little Judith. The kids acted out, as they do with any new teacher. Merle, with eyes closed and his feet on the desk at the front of the room, called out, "I'm tryin' to sleep here!"

They didn't stop so Merle brought his feet down and put his arm on the desk. "Anybody who can pin me gets to run study hall today."

One of the boys said, "You're bigger than us."

"Exactly. But you're flouting my authority. If the pup wants to play with the big dog, take the consequences."

The kids shut up and Merle's legend was born. It's hard to get substitute teachers at the last minute so occasionally Merle is pressed into service. They don't expect him to teach. Keeping order is all that's required. Merle has his own curriculum for these situations and thinks of himself as a life lessons coach.

Glenn 

It's been a hell of a week.

Noah came down from a rebound playing basketball and his elbow knocked out two of Jimmy's teeth. Jimmy will have a temporary until the prosthodontist is sure his jaw has finished growing. Then he'll get a permanent bridge. The boys are friends and so are their parents so there are no hard feelings. Or none admitted.

A group of girls snuck away during lunch to an old rope and slat bridge in the nearby woods. They jumped on it until one of the girl's glasses fell off and couldn't be found in the creek below. The girls are confined to campus and Merle was dispatched to take down the bridge. No one uses it except kids jumping on it and breaking ankles or losing glasses. The broken ankle was before my time.

Duane, the principal's son, planed a hunk out of his middle finger in shop class. Daryl took him to Emergency where they sutured the ends together. The finger is slightly shorter but Duane is pleased to still have the pad at the end which makes it easier to play guitar. And he had fun giving everyone the finger while 'showing' his injury.

Carl jumped into Duane's car without looking and sat on the guitar that Duane was happy to be able to play. Duane's parents said they wouldn't replace it right away because Duane was careless and didn't have it in the case. Rick and Lori Grimes bought him a new one. Morgan and Jenny Jones insisted on paying half.

Daryl and I are going to Ruby Tuesday in Atlanta to celebrate the week being over. But it's not over yet!

A man comes in as we finish eating and glances around. His eyes light on Daryl and he walks over.

"Is this who you left me for?"

Daryl gives me an 'Oh shit' expression which he removes before looking at the man.

"Glenn, this is Eric."

I nod at him but keep my face impassive, no frown or smile. I don't want him to think I'm angry or gloating. I get up from the booth and tell them I'll be back in a few minutes. I look over my shoulder as I head for the restroom. Eric is sliding in beside Daryl instead of across from him. Boundaries!

Daryl 

Eric says, "You're happy."

"Yeah."

"I'm not," Eric says flatly.

You don't say anything. You're not responsible for Eric's happiness.

"You've been together longer than we were."

You nod. "You should find somebody to be happy with."

Eric looks down. "I'll try."

"Good. Take a look around. Somebody's waiting for you."

Eric gets up. "Goodbye, Daryl."

"Bye, Eric."

You feel better and hope Eric does, too. This chance meeting might have been a good thing after all.

Glenn comes back and you tell him it's okay.

He's looking toward the entrance and says, "Unbelievable."

A man stops at your booth. He's about your size with short curly hair. He looks more stable than Eric.

"Hello, Glenn."

"Hi, Aaron. This is Daryl."

You copy Glenn by nodding neutrally. You get up and say, "I'm going to hit the head." You look back and see that Aaron is still standing. You like that he didn't sit down.

Glenn 

"He's the one, huh?"

I nod. "He really is. Are you with anyone?"

"Not yet."

"You should be."

"I think I need someone who needs me more than you did."

"I hope you find him."

"Thanks. Good to see you, Glenn."

"You, too, Aaron."

Aaron heads for the bar. Daryl comes back. He doesn't sit down again. "Let's get out of here before anybody else shows up."

Daryl 

You wake up hard, as usual. Glenn is asleep beside you. You're both wearing boxers, slipped on after sex last night because if you stay naked you're likely to keep touching and not get to sleep until way late. You both like a little morning action. Glenn stirs and turns over and climbs on top of you. You fit together so good. He's an inch or two shorter and not as broad. His lean body feels right in your arms and he likes how your sturdy build surrounds him. The head of your dick is poking up from the elastic waist. Glenn's is pushing through the opening of his boxers. They're like divining rods seeking each other out.

Later …

You like thinking of the future, years with Glenn stretching ahead. You'll stay at Benford High but you can see Glenn as the principal of a large school in Atlanta. Hell, maybe superintendent of the Georgia school system. He'll begin work on his doctorate soon. He loves counseling kids one-on-one but he's also interested in administration as a path to helping all students, not just kids he interacts with.

Glenn 

Six months later Andrea Harrison comes to her sister Amy's high school graduation. She was a high-powered constitutional lawyer in DC until going into private practice in Atlanta recently. The Harrison family moved to Benford after Andrea left home so she hasn't been around before. Apparently Amy knows something about her sister that doesn't show in Andrea's cool blonde beauty because Amy introduces Andrea to Merle.

A year later Aaron calls to invite me and Daryl to dinner with him and Eric. They met at the bar in Ruby Tuesday that night and hit it off and moved in together a couple of months ago. I'm happy for them. I hope Daryl doesn't mind that I accepted the invite.

He's fine with it. Daryl says Eric makes really good spaghetti.


	17. Manipulation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manipulation: skillful handling or management.
> 
> Math genius Glenn meets the redneck Dixon brothers.

Glenn

It happened again: An escape from reality. I won't call it a psychotic break because I'm not insane. I just get overwhelmed sometimes and my mind checks out for awhile. I'm at the side of a road I don't recognize and it's dark with no moon. I pat my pockets and am not surprised that my cell phone isn't there. I usually leave it when I take off.

I hear a motor getting louder so it's coming toward me. Should I try to flag it down? That might be dangerous but I've been on my own for hours already. It's February and I'm chilly. I'm wearing jeans and a tee shirt and my arms have goosebumps. I feel weak and shaky. I probably haven't eaten all day. This might be my only chance. Whoever it is might not stop anyway. My shirt is white so hopefully they'll see me and not run me over in the dark. A pickup truck comes around the curve. I step onto the road and wave my arms.

Daryl

The Dixons were on their way home after supper and a few beers at the bar and grill in Benford. Merle was more impaired than Daryl but he insisted on driving and Daryl didn't argue because it was only a couple of miles. As Merle slowed to turn in the lane Daryl spotted a figure waving his arms. He didn't look threatening. At this time of night it was probably an emergency – car broke down and cell phone dead – or he wouldn't be trying to hitch a ride. Must be a stranger or he'd know that Benford was nearby although the small town was closed up by now.

"Stop, Merle. Somebody needs help."

Merle hit the brakes. Daryl opened his door and the interior light came on. The figure was a kid and there was something funny about his eyes. His face looked foreign.

"What's a Chinaman doing out here?" Merle asked.

The kid didn't answer.

"Retard," Merle opined. "Got away from the state hospital."

"We'll have to take him in," Daryl said. "He looks cold."

"Maybe there's a reward," Merle said hopefully.

Daryl got out and took the kid's arm to guide him into the truck. He got in beside him and turned the heat up. The kid shivered and leaned against Daryl.

Daryl was surprised to find his arm circling the kid's shoulders. Daryl wasn't openly affectionate with friends or family or sex partners. At 32 his few sexual encounters had more to do with lust than affection. Sometimes he wanted an itch scratched by someone else instead of his own hand although it didn't involve more than mutual satisfaction. But a minute after meeting this kid Daryl felt protective.

"Where to?" Merle asked.

"I don't know where to take him. Let's go home and figure it out. We can always call 911."

By the time they reached the house the kid looked alert but hadn't spoken yet.

Inside, Merle headed for his room.

"You're just gonna hit the sheets?"

"You brought the stray home, Daryl, you deal with him. My advice? Make him a sammich and call somebody to come and get him. I don't need to wait up for that."

The sandwich was a good idea. The kid looked thin, he could use some food.

"You hungry?"

The kid nodded.

Daryl rummaged in the kitchen. "We ain't got much for a quick meal but there's always PB&J." He spread the peanut butter and jelly thick and set the sandwich before the kid with a glass of milk. The kid dug in with gusto so Daryl made another sandwich.

The kid eyed it and spoke in a normal voice with no accent. "I don't think I can eat it all."

Daryl cut the second sandwich in half, poured milk for himself and topped up the kid's glass. They ate in companionable silence.

When they finished Daryl asked, "You know where you belong?"

"Not the state hospital. I'm not retarded."

"You got somebody to call?"

The kid hesitated.

"If you're running off from something, we can find somebody to help you."

"I'm not a runaway, I'm 20."

"Trouble with the law?"

"No."

The kid suddenly looked ready to collapse. He put his head on the table and closed his eyes.

"Hey kid, don't crash now."

"I'm sorry. This is such an imposition but … could I stay here tonight?"

"Are you sick?"

"No, it's just been a long day and I need to sleep. I promise I'll explain. You won't be in any trouble."

Daryl bit his lip with indecision. "What's your name?"

"Glenn Rhee."

"Daryl Dixon. Other guy is my brother Merle." He paused. "Okay, it's late anyway. You can take the couch. But you gotta start talking in the morning."

"I will. Thank you, Daryl."

Daryl showed Glenn the bathroom then went to his own room and stripped down to his underwear. He used the bathroom and took a look at the couch. The kid was on his stomach and already looked deeply asleep.

Daryl slept lightly and woke a couple of hours later. He checked the couch again and found Glenn curled up on his side. The house was chilly and Daryl felt bad that he'd forgot to offer a blanket. He got one out and spread it over the kid. Glenn made a satisfied sound and snuggled in.

In the morning Daryl pulled on pants and a shirt. He detoured to the couch on his way to the kitchen to start coffee and found Glenn on his back with mouth slightly open. Apparently the kid could sleep in any position.

What the hell had he been thinking to allow a stranger to doss down for the night? But he didn't regret it and there was no danger to the Dixons from one tired hitchhiker. He wondered if anyone was looking for the kid so he turned on the little TV in the kitchen to watch the news.

Glenn wandered in a few minutes later but before they could talk Merle stumbled in, drawn by the smell of fresh coffee.

Merle looked at Glenn and said, "He still here?" He didn't wait for an answer but asked a more important question: "What's for breakfast?"

Glenn looked interested, too. Daryl sliced ham to fry up with eggs. He told Merle and Glenn to set the table and make toast.

As they began to eat, Merle took a bite and pointed his fork at Glenn but spoke to Daryl, "What's his deal?"

"You can talk to me. I'm Glenn Rhee and I'm not retarded."

"How about crazy? State hospital has a wing for psychos."

"I didn't wander off from the state hospital," Glenn said a little testily.

"Then my question last night stands," Merle said. "What's a Chinaman doing out here?"

"My family is from Korea. I was born in Atlanta."

"Whatever. You're all USAsians to me," Merle said. "If you're not slow or nuts, what's the story?"

"I have a high IQ. Sometimes I can't stop thinking and my brain overloads. I take off without knowing what I'm doing and wake up someplace else."

"So the problem is you're smart instead of stupid?"

"Kind of."

"You a Rain Man?"

"No, I'm good at math but I'm not autistic."

Merle looked at Daryl. "Do we have a box of toothpicks?"

"Let me clarify," Glenn said. "I'm very good but I'm not a mathematical savant."

"So you can't count cards and stuff?"

"I can count cards but I can't look at a box of spilled toothpicks and immediately know how many there are."

"We could take him to Atlantic City," Merle suggested.

"I must use this power only for good," Glenn said solemnly.

"Hear that, Merle?" Daryl said. "He's got superhero ethics."

"It'd be for our good if we cleaned up in Atlantic City."

"Forget it."

"Where am I?" Glenn asked. "The last thing I remember is Saturday morning in Atlanta."

"It's Sunday morning in Benford, about 30 miles from Atlanta," Daryl said. "Did you hitch all the way out here?"

"I took a bus to the end of the line in Atlanta and then walked a while outside the city. An old guy named Dale picked me up in his RV. We were on a highway but when he said he was taking the interstate to the coast, I got out and walked again. And then it got dark."

"You remember all that?" Daryl asked a little skeptically.

"Now I do, but at the time I was sort of sleepwalking. I don't remember details like what Dale and I talked about. I don't have a sense of time passing."

"This happen a lot?"

"Twice before."

"Where'd you end up those times?"

"The first time I got stopped outside the house. The second time I was still in the city when they found me."

"Isn't anybody watching out for you?" The lack of concern about this kid disgusted Daryl.

"The staff has other duties and I am smart, remember? Apparently I sneak away."

"Staff?" Merle asked, thinking of orderlies.

"Not hospital staff," Glenn replied, weary of repeating to Merle that he didn't belong in the state hospital. "My family is … uh … comfortable," he said uncomfortably.

Merle cast a speculative look at Glenn. Daryl knew his brother was still wondering about a reward.

Daryl handed Glenn his phone. "Your folks will be glad to hear from you."

Glenn didn't take the phone. "I don't want to go home."

"Why not?"

"My parents don't treat me like a person, much less their son."

"Whaddya mean?"

"I'm a consultant for the government. National security. Algorithms mostly. My parents are proud of that but they think of me as a commodity, an asset to be protected. The other two times I took off they locked me up and drugged me."

"Jesus. How could they get away with that?"

"Okay, it's not quite as bad as it sounds. They said I was disoriented so they admitted me to a private facility that gave me a mild sedative for a couple of days. My parents were protecting their investment."

"Are you going to freak out on us here?"

"I'm not disoriented this time. How was I last night?"

Daryl shrugged. "A little out of it but you were tired and hungry. You seem all right this morning."

"My parents didn't give me a chance to eat and sleep. They just dropped me at the clinic and told the director to fix me."

Daryl didn't like the sound of that. Glenn seemed so alone and lonely. "Go take a shower, get cleaned up."

With Glenn in the bathroom, Merle said, "You should be happy to have a package like that dropped in your lap."

"You so sure he's gay?"

"I'm straight as a plumb line myself but I can tell one when I see him. It's uncanny, like I been living with a fag or something."

Daryl ignored this. Merle fancied himself a wit and sometimes he tried too hard to be funny. "Don't matter, anyway. He's messed up. He doesn't need somebody else trying to screw him."

"Don't tell me you ain't interested."

"He needs help, not me hitting on him. And I'm a dozen years older."

"In that case, his folks are bound to be grateful to get him back."

"They sound like assholes."

"So were ours. Guess money don't make a difference."

Glenn returned in the same clothes but with damp hair and a freshly scrubbed look that made him seem younger than 20. Daryl dismissed his dreams. "You want to stay here for a few days?"

Glenn looked as if his dream came true. "You would let me do that?"

"Sounds like you could use a break from your folks. But you have to let them know you're okay."

"They'll trace a phone call."

"Burner phone," Merle muttered from the table where he was looking through the paper.

Daryl nodded. "We'll get a disposable phone from Walmart. And some clothes unless you want to try some of my old stuff."

"I'll pay for everything when I can get to my money. But I don't have a card with me and my parents would trace that, too, if I used it."

Daryl waved that away. "When you can. If you can."

"I really appreciate it but why would you do this for me?"

Merle snorted but didn't say anything.

"Kids have trouble with their folks all the time," Daryl said. "A week away will show them you can stand up for yourself. Might make things easier when you go back."

Daryl dug out a couple pairs of jeans and a few tee shirts left over from high school. They fit Glenn well enough and he wanted to wear them instead of buying new. Daryl drove to a Walmart on the outskirts of Atlanta, left Glenn in the truck so he wouldn't be on surveillance and went in to get a cheap disposable prepaid phone and a package of briefs so Glenn would have clean underwear.

Back in the truck, they went over what Glenn would say. Glenn was sure his parents had someone on his disappearance but not the police or the government. His parents wouldn't want officials to know that Glenn was missing.

"Keep it simple," Daryl advised. "And don't let them stall."

Glenn punched in the number. It was answered after the second ring.

"Rhee residence."

Glenn recognized the housekeeper's voice. "Hannah, it's Glenn."

"Mr. Glenn, your parents are very worried. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I'm staying with friends for a week. I'll be home next Sunday. Please give them the message."

"No, no, they're here. They'll want to speak with you. Just a minute."

"I know this is being recorded, they can listen to it. I have to go now."

Glenn disconnected, removed the battery, lowered the window and threw the phone into a trash bin as Daryl cruised by.

"You did good."

"I hate hanging up on Hannah but she would have kept me on the line until my father's private investigator showed up."

On the drive home Glenn asked, "What do you and your brother do?"

"We've got a little meat packing plant, Dixon Custom Meats. We butcher local cattle and swine and process game for hunters."

"Wow. I never really considered how meat gets to the table."

"Most city folk don't. Neither do country folk unless they keep slaughter animals."

Glenn

I feel so at ease here, even with Merle who likes to stir things up with the things he says. Even though Merle is nicer than he looks, it's Daryl who wanted to help me. I suspect he feels sorry for me and I'm embarrassed to be an object of pity. I've had all the advantages of privilege and education but I ended up relying on the kindness of strangers. I'm going to use this week to learn to rely on myself. I suppose it's taken so long for me to reach this point because of my childhood. Early on my parents knew I was gifted, especially at anything to do with numbers. I was always in advanced classes and I skipped a few grades so it was difficult to make friends. Eventually I had tutors instead of going to school. I graduated high school and college early and got my masters in algorithms and data analytics by the time I was 18. That's when the NSA came calling. I like my work and my mind needs to be challenged but suddenly I feel like part of my life is missing. The part with fun, sex and happiness. I'm not a virgin. I was with a boy three years ago and a girl last year and that confirmed to me that I'm gay.

Daryl has shaggy brown hair, blue eyes and a terrific body. I'm all but certain he's gay but he's quite a bit older and I have to be careful not to become infatuated.

I know so little about how real people live. That's something else I want to learn. The Dixon house is shabby but it feels comfortable and lived in. I offer to clean while I'm here. Merle accepts instantly. Daryl says I don't have to be a servant, but I insist on earning my keep. I've never dusted or vacuumed or scrubbed or done laundry. By the end of the week I know that housework is monotonous and never ending but I'm also glad I know how to do it.

The woods are more interesting. Daryl and I hike in a different direction almost every day. There's not enough time to learn about all the trees and plants but he points out poisonous plants to avoid and berries that can be eaten. He teaches me a few things that I would have learned if I ever went camping or joined Boy Scouts.

I go with the brothers to Dixon Custom Meats. It's a small operation and it's fascinating although the smell makes me feel sick the first day. There's a slaughter room and a processing room, both with floor drains and tables for cleaning, processing and weighing. I like the freezer with the end result of neat packages of meat. Daryl and Merle wear coveralls and rubber boots and gloves. There's a computer in the small office and I offer to help with the books. Upgrading software and creating a few programs is easy for me and will make it easier for Daryl and Merle. Daryl says I don't owe anything because I've been a big help all week.

We have lunch at the bar and grill. Daryl introduces me and says I'm organizing their office.

Despite my good intentions, I've got a crush on Daryl and I believe he's not indifferent to me. There's a look in his eyes but he hasn't said or done anything. I wish he would but it's best not to let anything develop between us. I've got some personal development to work on.

All too soon the best week of my life is over. Daryl drives me to Atlanta and we sit in his truck at a mall a few miles from my parents' house. I'll go in and make a call and they'll send a car. I'm not going to tell my parents where I've been. They might dig into Daryl's life and that wouldn't be fair after all he's done for me.

"Thank you, Daryl." I lean across and kiss him because I can't resist the impulse to taste his mouth just once. As I start to get out he pulls me back to him and kisses me hard and holds me a moment before he says goodbye.

Daryl

Daryl was in the grip of strong attraction but even more powerful was the wish for this kid to become the person he should be. He'd been managed all his life by his folks and Daryl hoped he wasn't pushing Glenn into rebellion that would do more harm than good. He didn't think so, based on Glenn's behavior. He'd been reserved the first day. Eager and helpful but quiet and watchful. After that he seemed more like a regular kid his age with a cheeky personality.

* * *

It had been a long and lonely seven months since the best week of Daryl's life. He still felt it was right to let Glenn go but he couldn't help wondering how the kid was doing. He could have found Glenn but he didn't because they were from two different worlds. Maybe their paths would cross again someday.

* * *

Daryl missed a call while he was in the shower. Unbelievably, it was from Glenn:

"Daryl, it's Glenn. I hope you don't mind me calling you. I had another episode and my parents put me in Stonehill. I'm going to get out and come to Benford. I hope you'll be glad to see me."

Daryl played the voicemail for Merle.

"Stonehill is a private fool farm?"

"Yeah. Are you gonna help me get him out of there?"

"Why not? This place could use a good cleaning. Maybe you could teach him to cook, too."

The brothers made a plan which included a certain appearance to get inside. Merle put on his good suit. Daryl wore dress pants and a nice shirt. They went to Hershel Greene who let them borrow his old black Cadillac in mint condition. Beth Greene was home for the weekend with her boyfriend. She and Noah were juniors at the university. Noah said they would need a driver to complete the image. He had a suit with him because Hershel liked the family to attend church together on Sundays.

Stonehill was less than an hour away, a small exclusive facility in a peaceful rural setting. Noah pulled up at the entrance and opened the back door for Merle and Daryl to get out.

"Pull over to the side lot," Daryl said. "If we find Glenn, he'll probably have to go out a back door."

"Be ready to roll," Merle added. "We might have to make a quick getaway."

"Look dumb," Merle told Daryl as they went in.

A woman at the reception desk with the name tag 'Jacqui' offered her assistance. Merle asked to speak to somebody in charge. Jacqui made a call and a dignified man appeared. He introduced himself as Dr. Edwin Jenner and invited them to his office.

"Maybe Daryl could wait out here," Merle said. "I got a delicate situation to discuss."

Daryl, who had allowed his face to go slack and his eyes vacant, sat in the lobby.

In Jenner's office, Merle took a chair and began to spin his story. He'd rather not give his name at this point as it was likely to be recognized and he didn't want word of this visit to get back to Daddy who was old and sick but still wouldn't take kindly to interference. His younger son had been born damaged and Daddy had always wanted to keep him at home. But Daryl had become excitable and hard to manage lately and Merle's missus was tired of him underfoot. Merle had intended to wait until Daddy passed but the missus had said it wouldn't hurt to check a few places where Daryl might be comfortable.

Jenner tried to ask questions about Daryl's condition but Merle just said his medical file would be available when needed and turned the conversation to care and cost.

Jenner handed Merle an attractive brochure. "This will give you a good idea of our facility. We offer a wide range of services. A basic list with fees is included."

Meanwhile, Daryl asked for a bathroom and Jacqui pointed him around the corner. Daryl opened the door and closed it a second later without going in. He peeked around the corner. Jacqui had turned away, no doubt expecting that Daryl wouldn't be back for a few minutes. Daryl stepped silently down the corridor and out of sight of reception.

There were doors on both sides of the corridor. Daryl came to one with a small window. It looked like a day room. A man and two women sat watching a TV. Another man stood at the back wall looking out a window. The door was unlocked and Daryl went in.

The man by the window had dark hair in a mullet. He pivoted, looking nervous. "Hello!"

"Anybody here know Glenn Rhee?"

The TV watchers turned their heads but their expressions were blank and they went back to the TV without answering.

Daryl walked over to Mullet. "How about you?"

The window behind Mullet was ajar which struck Daryl as odd. He was pretty sure windows wouldn't open in a place like this. He swung it out and looked down at Glenn crouched beside the building. Glenn beamed up at him. Son of a bitch. The kid hadn't needed help getting out after all. But at least Daryl could make sure he got away.

"There's a black Caddy down at that end of the building. Noah will put you in the trunk. I'll be out soon as I can."

Glenn nodded and jogged away.

Mullet was holding a tool that must have been used to force the window. He tucked it away, pulled out a small tube of epoxy and sealed the window.

"I surmise that you are Glenn's friend Daryl Dixon. I am his other friend Eugene Porter."

"Appreciate your help, Eugene. Can we keep this between us?"

"It's in the vault," Eugene assured him.

Daryl glanced at the three staring at the TV.

"They are medicated and pose no threat," Eugene said.

Daryl went back to the door and peeked out the window. "There's a man and woman in uniform at reception," he whispered.

"That would be Major Abraham Ford and Lieutenant Rosita Espinosa here to see me. Is the lieutenant wearing a skirt or pants?"

"Skirt."

"Excellent."

"She have good legs?"

"Affirmative."

"I think I can sneak past while they sign in."

Daryl slipped by while Jacqui was distracted checking them in. He let his face go slack and his eyes vacant as he opened the door to the director's office without knocking.

"I wanna go home." Daryl announced.

"We haven't looked around yet," Merle said.

"There are scary people. Let's go now."

Jacqui appeared at the door. "Mr. Porter's visitors must have frightened him. The uniforms, you know."

Merle rolled his eyes at Dr. Jenner with a 'See what I have to put up with' look. "We'll try another time."

Daryl was already through the entrance. Noah pulled up and opened the back door for Daryl and Merle to get in.

Dr. Jenner had accompanied Merle to the entrance. Jacqui hurried out and spoke to him and Jenner waved at Noah before he could drive away.

Noah said "Yassuh?" in an accent the Dixons had never heard him use before.

"You were parked in the side lot?" Jenner asked.

Noah bobbed his head. "Shady over there."

"Did you see anyone?"

"Fella headed to the trees a while back."

"You didn't think that was suspicious?"

"Man on a smoke break ain't none of my bidness."

"A smoke break in the woods?"

"Might need privacy for some kinds of cigarettes."

Merle leaned forward. "What's the hold-up?"

Jenner didn't want to explain that a patient had disappeared. "Sorry for the delay."

Noah aimed the car at the gates.

Merle and Daryl were laughing as they drove off.

"When did you start talkin' like Stepin Fetchit?" Merle asked.

"I thought you were in college to be an architect," Daryl said.

"I take drama, too," Noah replied in his normal voice. "That's how Beth and I met. We were Desdemona and Othello. But this was way more fun than a college play."

Noah turned at the first corner and parked. Daryl jumped out of the car and was around back by the time Noah pulled the trunk release. Daryl lifted the trunk lid and there was Glenn grinning up at him. Daryl swung him up and out and didn't let go right away after Glenn was standing.

"You look exactly the same," Glenn said.

Daryl didn't think it was worth mentioning that he had been two months behind on a haircut when they first met and he'd kept his hair long ever since so that he would look the same if he and Glenn ever saw each other again.

"So do you," Daryl said. Glenn did look the same physically but there was a confidence and maturity in his eyes and the way he held himself that hadn't been there earlier this year.

Merle got out of the back and got in beside Noah who said, "You sure you want to sit up front with the help?"

"Better than sharing the back seat with them two."

Daryl asked if they drugged Glenn who said they tried but he cheeked the pill and spit it out and then enlisted Eugene's help.

The four of them entertained each other with accounts of their roles in the operation although Glenn admitted Eugene had more to do with his escape than Glenn did.

"What does the government want with Eugene?" Daryl asked.

"He's a consultant for the Department of Defense."

"No offense, but are all government consultants unstable?"

"It's a fair question. I guess genius comes with a price."

"Well, 'Eugenius' seems like a good guy but he's committed to an institution."

"No, he's there voluntarily. He checks himself in if he's having trouble concentrating on a project. He says the atmosphere helps him focus. And I wasn't committed either, my parents just admitted me for a few days."

"Good thing that place has shitty security."

"It's pretty good, actually. Patients wear security bracelets." Glenn held up his arm. "Eugene disabled mine. You can remove it when we get home."

Daryl liked the casual way that Glenn referred to Benford as home. "Do we need to pick up another burner phone so you can call your folks?"

"Yes, please. I don't want my father to send someone for me."

"So what happened?" Daryl asked after they got home and Glenn had left another message with Hannah.

"My parents were upset when I got back but not as angry as I expected. Things have been better since then. I told them I wanted to get my own place and they finally agreed but asked me to wait until I turned 21. I was going to call you when I was on my own." Glenn paused. "My birthday was last month. I was excited about moving out and maybe a little nervous. I guess it triggered the episode. My parents reverted to their usual method and took me to Stonehill. They said this is a sign that I'm not ready to be on my own. Maybe they're right."

"Or maybe you need a lawyer."

"I don't want to sue my parents. I probably don't have grounds anyway."

"Not to sue them. Just to have somebody speak up for you."

"I should be able to deal with them myself."

"You did okay but you got special circumstances. If they want to argue about it, a lawyer could argue with them so you don't have to."

"The only attorneys I know work for my father."

"Andrea Harrison," Merle suggested.

"That's who I was thinking," Daryl agreed.

"I've heard of her," Glenn said. "She's very good but also busy. She turned down my father a few years ago. She won't take me on."

"Sure she will," Merle said. "She likes helping the downtrodden and disenfranchised."

"I can afford to pay."

"Even better."

"I'm not an important case."

"She'll do it. I'll threaten to cut her off for a month if she don't."

"What!"

"Me and Andrea go back a ways."

"You were a downtrodden and disenfranchised client?"

"Naw, I was drunk and disorderly but her firm does some pro bono."

"But you could afford to pay."

"Never admit that until you have to. Besides, I ended up paying. We both got our money's worth if you know what I mean."

"I'm afraid I do. You and Andrea Harrison are really together?"

"Don't sound so surprised, you'll hurt my feelings."

"I suppose opposites attract."

Andrea was out of town for two days but would meet with Glenn when she returned. Daryl and Glenn spent the time together. They talked about what they'd been doing in the past months and they grew closer but Merle was in the house so Glenn slept on the sofa and Daryl stayed in his room.

* * *

Merle and Daryl went with Glenn to meet Andrea. Glenn explained his situation.

"Sounds like that movie _A Beautiful Mind_ ," Andrea said.

Merle cackled. "More like a beautiful behind to Daryl."

"What?"

"They're both queer."

"And we're sitting right here," Daryl snapped.

"Don't be so sensitive," Merle replied. Andrea gave him a look and he shut up.

Andrea summarized her understanding of the situation: "Your parents were overprotective of their only child due to your intellectual gifts. Their behavior became more controlling as you grew up and is now a habit difficult to break. You have no real case for legal action against them since they were acting – albeit coldly – in your interest, especially since you want to improve the relationship not ruin it. I see my role as a mediator not an adversary." Andrea paused to think. "Too bad you're not married," she said absently. "Spousal rights trump parental rights."

"I'm not getting married for convenience," Glenn said.

"Of course not, it was just an observation," Andrea said.

"We need to talk." Daryl stood up. "Is there someplace private?"

"Conference room next door."

Daryl shut the door to the conference room behind Glenn. "We should do it. Get married. If you want to."

Glenn was looking down. "I don't want you to marry me because you're sorry for me."

"I'm sorry for myself. I been sorry since I let you go."

Glenn looked up. "I was sorry to leave but it was good for me. You always know what I need."

"I know what I need, too. You."

"You really mean that?"

It was Daryl's turn to look down. "This is new for me. Love has never been part of the equation before."

"I love you, too, Daryl. And I love you even more for making a math joke about love! Did you just think that up?"

"I'm not that quick. I been thinking of saying something since Stonehill."

"Getting married is a big deal. We don't know each other very well."

"A week in February and the last few days. I feel closer to you than anybody I've known longer."

"Me, too."

"Will this cause trouble with your folks?"

"It will be hard for them to object. Theirs was an arranged marriage that worked out. They met three times before the wedding."

"My folks run off and eloped a month after they met."

"So we're carrying on a tradition in both families." Glenn hesitated. "We haven't even had sex yet."

"I could lock the door."

Glenn laughed. "Let's hold out for a better location."

They sealed the hasty engagement with a kiss and went back to Andrea's office.

"We're getting married," Daryl announced.

"Congratulations," Andrea said. "That was quick."

"Bet it won't be a long engagement," was Merle's contribution.

"How long does it take to get married?" Glenn asked.

"There's no waiting period so you can marry as soon as you get the license," Andrea replied. "But I suggest you wait until after we meet with Glenn's parents. You should give them the opportunity to attend."

"They probably won't but sure, we'll ask."

"What about finances?" Andrea said.

"I have a trust fund but my parents control it until I'm 25. They could have released it to me when I turned 21 but they didn't. I get a basic allowance. But the trust fund doesn't matter. I have income from my government contracts."

"That's good," Andrea said "Because we have to assume your parents won't turn over the trust fund until they have to. What's the principle amount?"

"A million but it's been compounding interest since I was born. It's over four million now."

"Jesus Christ!" Merle blurted.

Daryl looked stunned. "You said your folks were comfortable. I didn't know you were rich like that. I can't marry you."

"You didn't know I had the money when you asked me to marry you. I'm holding you to it. Don't make me bring up breach of promise. Besides, the money is tied up for four more years."

At home again, Glenn kissed Daryl very thoroughly. It was obvious what was on his mind. But something had been on Daryl's mind since they decided to marry. He held Glenn away. "Maybe we should wait."

"For what?"

"We're getting married in a week. We could wait until it's official."

"Save ourselves for marriage? But we're not virgins. What if we're not … compatible?"

"You really think sex is going to be terrible for us?"

"No, I think it's going to be wonderful and I'd like to confirm that as soon as possible."

Daryl sighed. "You're right. It was a dumb idea."

Glenn lit up for a moment at the thought of being with Daryl but then he paused and frowned. "Why do you want to wait?"

Daryl hitched one shoulder in a half-shrug. "I had a notion of waiting so what we have would be different from anybody else I been with. But that's dumb because everything with us will be different anyway. Let's go to bed."

Glenn hung back. "I hadn't thought of it that way. You said the one thing to change my mind. Let's wait."

"You sure?"

"It's only a few days. We'll be really ready when it happens."

Andrea contacted Gene and Lois Rhee and explained that she had been asked to facilitate a meeting between them and Glenn and his fiancé Daryl Dixon. The Rhees were astonished by news of the engagement but agreed to the meeting.

Glenn was worried when he realized the meeting would be the same day as his father's birthday.

"I want to give him something but he's impossible to buy for. He's got everything he needs or wants."

"What's he interested in?" Daryl asked.

"Business and making money."

"No hobbies?"

"He likes wine. He knows a lot about rare vintages. He doesn't drink much but he collects all kinds of alcoholic beverages. Anything we could afford he already has."

"So we'll go the other way and give him something affordable. I got an idea."

The morning of the meeting Merle handed over a small wooden crate filled with straw packed around four pint jars.

"A crate?" Daryl said. "That's the best you can do?"

"I ain't Macy's gift wrap counter."

"No, this is perfect," Glenn said. "It shouldn't look fancy."

Daryl, Glenn and Andrea arrived first. Glenn stowed the crate under the table.

Gene and Lois Rhee arrived and were introduced to Daryl. Father looked like a typical businessman. Mother was svelte and stylish. Daryl could see Glenn in both of them and wasn't surprised that they were a good-looking couple. The Rhees knew by now that Glenn had spent that week with Daryl months ago and they'd been together since Stonehill.

Andrea tactfully made her points about Glenn feeling stifled and wishing to be independent. Father looked sad and serious and said they were only trying to protect him. Mother dabbed her eyes and told Glenn not to marry because he was angry with his parents.

"We have the best reason to marry," Glenn replied. "Daryl and I love each other."

The Rhees changed tactics and produced a prenuptial agreement. Glenn protested. Voices rose. It was getting heated and Andrea wasn't having any luck calming things down.

Daryl had been silent but now raised his own voice: "I don't care about the money! I don't want anything to do with it." He grabbed the document and scrawled his signature. Mother picked it up and looked at it with satisfaction.

"Thank you, Daryl," Glenn said with a smile. "I knew you would feel that way and I appreciate you signing." He snatched the document from his mother and tore it across. "But it's not necessary. We can't touch the money until I'm 25. There will be no prenup."

Mother's nostrils flared and Father looked stern but they didn't protest. No doubt they figured Daryl would be out of the picture in four years.

Glenn brought out the crate. "Happy Birthday, Father. From Daryl and me."

Father looked surprised. "What is this?"

"Something Daryl's brother cooked up."

There was a gleam of interest in Father's eye. "Is it legal?"

"Merle has a license," Daryl replied. "But this batch is off the books." Daryl only said that because it sounded like Father would like it to be illegal.

Mother looked disdainful. She whipped out her phone and said she would call their driver to come up and carry it.

Father's hands tightened protectively. "I've got it."

They rode down in the elevator together. Father was trying to read Merle's sloppy printing on pieces of tape across the tops of the jars.

"Candy Corn?"

"Bourbon made with corn syrup," Daryl said.

"Peachy Keen."

"Peach schnapps."

"Butter Pecan."

"Merle's version of demon rum."

"Georgia Mud."

"Be careful of that one. The red color looks pretty but it'll suck you in and pull you down."

"Did your brother name them?"

"Yep." Daryl didn't add that not all the names Merle came up with for people or things were as nice as the ones for his homemade hooch.

Andrea called that night, excited about her news. During her last two years of law school, she had clerked for Morgan Jones, chief judge of the 11th circuit court of appeals out of Atlanta. She had moved on to private practice after passing the bar but they remained friends and kept in contact even after Jones was tapped for the supreme court three years before. Jones lived in DC now but maintained a home near Atlanta. He would be there soon and would be happy to officiate at the wedding if they wanted to wait two weeks.

The delay was a blow but Daryl and Glenn agreed to postpone. A Supreme Court justice presiding at their son's marriage thrilled Glenn's parents so much that they offered to host a luncheon at the St. Regis for the wedding party after the ceremony and a reception for their friends in the afternoon. There would be a suite for Glenn and Daryl to spend the weekend.

This was more hoopla than Daryl was comfortable with but he sucked it up because the wedding wasn't the marriage. The wedding weekend would be over soon enough and it would be him and Glenn from then on. And if a social circus made Father and Mother happy, it was worth it to keep on good terms. Besides, Daryl was looking forward to a wedding night in luxury surroundings.

In order to avoid temptation before the wedding – and to make Glenn's parents happy – Glenn moved back home. Daryl went to dinner twice. Mother asked about his work and managed to hide her dismay that Glenn was marrying a butcher. Father was friendlier, asking Daryl about his brother's sideline making moonshine. Glenn always called his parents Father and Mother so that's how Daryl thought of them although he called them Mr. Rhee and Mrs. Rhee. On the second visit they told him to call them Gene and Lois.

The wedding and luncheon took place in the same room that would be used later for the reception. It was just Daryl, Glenn, the Rhees, Merle, Andrea and Justice Morgan Jones.  


**_Mr. and Mrs. Gene Rhee_ **  
**_Would be honored by your presence_ **  
**_At a reception celebrating the marriage of_ **  
**_Glenn Rhee and Daryl Dixon_ **  
**_Saturday, the 15th of October, 2015_ **  
**_2 to 4 pm in the Vanderbilt Salon_ **  
**_The St. Regis Atlanta_ **

The reception went better than Daryl expected. He and Glenn stood with Mother and Father as everyone arrived. One couple was introduced as the Rhees' friends and another couple as neighbors. Everyone else seemed to be business associates. The Rhees were surprised that Daryl was acquainted with two people. Carol Peletier had brought a deer to Dixon Custom Meats last year. She had field dressed it herself but wanted it professionally processed. Daryl had met Aaron Marquand at a turkey shoot a few months ago.

Congresswoman Deanna Monroe came through the line with her husband Reg who said to Daryl, "I believe you know a student of mine. Noah Williams."

Daryl, unsure how much Noah may have told his architecture professor about the Stonehill escapade, simply agreed that Noah was a smart kid.

* * *

Reg used the same line when he met Merle later. Merle couldn't resist stirring the pot.

"Did Noah tell you he's changing his major?"

Reg was startled. "That can't be right."

Merle nodded wisely. "He got bit with the acting bug."

"I know he takes drama but surely he wouldn't … He's very skilled at architecture. I'd hate to lose him."

"No business like show business," Merle announced.

Reg looked worried.

* * *

As a prominent attorney Andrea was familiar with many of the guests. She circulated, making small talk and being charming. The Rhees appeared to be pleased with how the reception was going.

It was a two hour cocktail and canapé thing so there was no dancing but music was provided by a harpist. There was no cake cutting either.

"It's not cake I want stuffed in my mouth," Glenn had told Daryl. "Although a couple of the letters are the same."

There were savory hors d'oeuvres and dessert tapas and a bar in one corner. Flutes of champagne were passed for a toast delivered by Gene Rhee.

The guests said their goodbyes and cleared out. Time for bed.

Glenn

I feel like a colt at first, awkward and nervous because I haven't had much experience. Daryl has had a few more partners than me but he looks a little nervous, too. We both want this so much that nerves are forgotten by the time we undress. If I'm a colt, Daryl is a stallion. Let me take the analogy further and say that he's hung like a horse. Not literally but he's definitely on the generous size for human males. I suspected it the past two weeks when we made out a little.

* * *

"Well, that was worth the wait," I say when I can finally speak again.

"I was right," Daryl says. "We're not terrible together."

"I was right, too. Wonderful has now been confirmed."

We order room service and put on the plush hotel robes to eat. The butler who showed us through the suite when we checked in said they're new and paid for so we can take them with us when we leave. I slide Daryl's open to see his chest.

"I like your tattoos. I wanted to get one when I was younger but my parents said no. I should have done it anyway."

"They might not have been wrong about that. Be a shame to ink up skin like yours." Daryl touches where my neck meets shoulder. "Did you see this?"

I look in the mirror. "A hickey!"

"I could mark you more if you want."

"You can do tattoos?"

"Yeah, but that's not what I meant. It wouldn't be permanent but it would last awhile."

Daryl lays me on the bed and kneels over me. I feel his lips all around my chest and belly kissing a spot then the tug as he sucks and finally his tongue soothing the skin before moving on. After awhile he sits back and says, "Take a look."

There's a heart outline from nipples to navel. Daryl tells me to keep my shirt on until it goes away.

"Why? I like it."

"Rather keep it between us that I sucked a heart on your chest."

"For a second I thought you said hard on."

"You can suck that on me."

I dive between Daryl's legs.

* * *

The following weekend a less formal affair takes place at the Benford bar and grill. It's a cross between a hoedown and a hootenanny and this time there's dancing. Daryl said he would only slow dance with me in private so we took the floor to _Hot Stuff_ and everyone gets a kick out of watching us. Hershel Green's foreman Otis and a couple of his friends provide the music. Others start dancing after a few minutes. The next song is _For All We Know_ and I come to a stop, planning to sit it out or find a female partner.

Daryl says, "Hell with it" and pulls me close.

"You don't have to do this."

"Merle said if I was a real man and a true homosexual I'd slow dance with you in public."

"He knows how to push your buttons."

"He's a master manipulator for sure."

"Is this an old Carpenters' song?"

"Yeah, Otis knows our mama liked their music. At least it's not _We've Only Just Begun_."

"These lyrics are appropriate."

"Just so you know, I won't be twirling or dipping you."

Daryl is a good dancer, better than me. I like being in his arms dancing or in bed. Around us are Father and Mother, Merle and Andrea, Noah and Beth, Hershel and his older daughter Maggie, and Sheriff Rick Grimes and his girlfriend Michonne. The bar is full but the dance floor is small. No one seems to mind taking turns dancing. More time to drink and talk.

Randall is tending bar tonight. When I get a drink later he whispers, "Dude, your mom is hot."

Mother has the time and money to keep herself up. She's dancing with Merle. I wonder what they're talking about.

* * *

Merle stirred another pot. He asked Mrs. Rhee if she had seen the Dixon homestead where the newlyweds were living. Mrs. Rhee politely responded that she had not.

"Just as well. It's kind of a shanty. Maybe they'll get a trailer. I'll advise 'em to go for a new double-wide instead of a used single."

Mrs. Rhee was speechless with horror.

* * *

I thank my brother-in-law for getting Daryl to slow dance.

"It was as much for me as for you."

"Daryl said he won't twirl or dip me."

"We'll see about that."

"Don't say anything too soon or he'll catch on."

"Maybe I'll wait until your anniversary. Say he pussied out on twirling and dipping when you got married. That should do it."

* * *

Mother surprises me while we're dancing: "The trust fund allows for special disbursements. A request would be approved if you and Daryl want to buy or build a house."

"We've been thinking of making a change. The Dixon house is small for three."

"You need something bigger, something solid that will last."

"Thank you, Mother. I'll talk to Daryl."

Merle overhears me telling Daryl about the conversation with Mother and explains why she made the offer.

* * *

Later Daryl warns me about his brother: "Merle can mess with a person. He can work you around to do stuff and you don't even realize it."

"But I'm forewarned so I won't fall for it." I don't tell Daryl that I'm already in cahoots with Merle about the dancing. I should feel guilty about manipulating Daryl but it's harmless. If Daryl really doesn't want to do something, Merle's taunts won't make it happen.

Daryl doesn't want a trailer but he has another idea. He can get a railcar and a caboose and move them to the back of the Dixon property, complete with a short set of rails. Daddy Dixon was a railroad man at the terminus in Atlanta. He worked on car maintenance and Daryl learned enough to restore the cars himself. Daryl says he'll get steel cars instead of wood and there will be space for my workroom. I hire Noah to design the interior layout. Long narrow spaces are a challenge. His architect professor says he can submit the plans for course credit.

Mother is appalled when she hears about it but changes her mind when she sees the plans. She has excellent taste and has redecorated her own house twice so I ask her to help decorate and suddenly she's on board.

* * *

Six months later …

Daryl

It was Friday noon and Daryl was about to close shop early and head to ATL to pick Glenn up. Glenn had flown to DC Wednesday evening and spent all day Thursday in meetings about a new project. It was classified so he wouldn't be telling Daryl about it which was fine with Daryl since he wouldn't understand it anyway. Daryl had asked Glenn if he minded not being able to talk about his work and Glenn said that was a good thing. He didn't obsess about it so much.

The relationship with Glenn's parents was surprisingly good. Father had pretty much been won over by his birthday gift. Mother had thawed after Glenn pointed out he had spared her having a daughter-in-law. She would have disliked any girl that became his bride. Young and pretty with inevitable comparisons of clothes, hair, makeup and who wore the family jewels better. Mother would remain the undisputed queen of the Rhee family. She was putting the finishing touches on the railroad cars. Daryl had been afraid the place would end up a mini version of the mansion Glenn grew up in but Mother had created a look Daryl liked. They would move in next month.

Father had invited Glenn, Daryl and Merle for a golf foursome at Cherokee Town & Country Club. Glenn bought Daryl golf pants and a blue polo shirt. Glenn wore a purple polo, Merle showed up in green and Father in yellow. They looked like the LGBT flag. Daryl had never golfed before but he had a powerful swing for the fairways and a good eye for putting. In the clubhouse Merle was greeted by two men he'd met while accompanying Andrea to various functions. It turned out there was a slice of Merle's life that Daryl didn't know about.

Since the locker was closing early, Merle had taken off this morning to visit an old army buddy. Daryl decided to spring for a night in Atlanta as a surprise for Glenn. Afternoon sex at a hotel would be fun after two nights apart although they wouldn't be taking a suite at the St. Regis. Maybe they could go to dinner later with Andrea who would be on her own without Merle.

Daryl's phone rang. It was Glenn. Daryl hoped he wasn't calling to say his flight was delayed.

Glenn sounded anxious. "Daryl, I did a bad thing."

"I'll spank you when you get home." Daryl wasn't worried. Glenn didn't do very bad things. "Did you miss your flight?"

"Not exactly. I took a different flight."

"Where are you? Did you get stuck on a layover with no flight out?" Daryl figured that would qualify as a bad thing to Glenn.

"I'm in Atlantic City."

Daryl was silent as a scenario unfolded in his mind. "Merle." Daryl was suddenly certain that the old army buddy was fictional.

"It's not all his fault. I went along with it. It seemed like a fun idea. I thought we'd be here a few hours and fly home tonight." Glenn sounded as if he thought Daryl would be mad.

Daryl sighed. "Yeah, that happens with Merle. Did you guys get thrown out of the casino?"

"Of course not." Glenn was indignant. "I can cheat without getting caught. The casino comped us a suite. Merle said they're hoping we'll stay all weekend so they can get our money back. But I'm going to get a flight. I'll call you back and let you know when it gets in to Atlanta."

"I got a better idea. I'll fly up and we'll spend the weekend there."

"Really? You don't mind that I went along with Merle? You warned me but I thought I was immune."

"It was bound to happen. You're smart but Merle has a knack for getting his way. Look at Andrea. You think she planned to get involved with somebody like him? I'm gonna call her when we hang up. I bet she'll come with me. And I bet Merle won't be surprised when you tell him you called and we're on the way."

"We're at the Borgata."

"That place has a spa. Yep, Merle is expecting Andrea to show up. I'll call you back when I know what time we'll get in."

As predicted, Merle wasn't surprised that Glenn had called and that Daryl and Andrea would be joining them.

"I already made reservations for four," Merle said. "We're going to Capriccio's tonight."

They had wine with dinner and liqueurs after. Later there was love and laughter, sex and spanking.

In both bedrooms of the suite.

          

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Donna Summer - Hot Stuff](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=27-TM3q5-Cc) 
> 
> [The Carpenters - For All We Know](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X4QB4ExAKbo)


	18. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connections: links or relationship, circle of friends.
> 
> Daryl and Glenn connect in a lot of ways.

Daryl

The Dixon brothers stood in front of the coffin. The mortician, a small man with a fussy manner, lifted the lid and stepped to one side, awaiting a compliment upon the appearance of their father that he was sure must be forthcoming.

"This ain't right," the younger brother said.

It wasn't the response Mr. Miller hoped for but it wasn't unexpected either. "He was taken too soon," Mr. Miller said sympathetically. "Sixty-four is far from old."

"That ain't Daddy," the older brother announced.

"Very true," Mr. Miller agreed. "The body is but a vessel. Your father's spirit …"

Daryl cut him off by starting to say, "Shut the fu…" but he glanced at his surroundings and changed it to "Be quiet and look at him."

Tired of wasting time, Merle yelled, "Our Daddy ain't a damn Chinaman!"

Mr. Miller gasped as he stepped close to peer down. Meanwhile a scream was heard from nearby and Mr. Miller's complexion took on the waxen hue of the body he had so carefully embalmed. "I know what happened," he said nervously. "Two families selected the same coffin for viewings on the same day. It appears they were placed in the wrong rooms."

The door of the Rose Room opened and what appeared to be a herd of Asians stormed in. A small older woman in the lead followed by two younger women and a young man at the rear.

"Gene!" the older woman screeched as she threw herself at the coffin.

"Now we know the Chinaman's name," Merle said without bothering to lower his voice.

"We're Korean!" the woman shrieked.

"Whatever," Merle replied. "Let's get 'em switched."

Mr. Miller was trying to soothe the widow and her daughters. The son seemed more amused than upset. Daryl caught him biting his lip to keep from laughing. 

"Disrespect," the widow wailed.

"Please, Mrs. Rhee," Mr. Miller begged. "My apologies, but it's a simple mistake and easily rectified."

"Calm down, Mom," the young man said. "It's funny. Pop would appreciate it."

Meanwhile, Daryl took a look beneath the skirt of the gurney the coffin rested on. The wheels were locked in place and he figured out how to unlock them. Miller Mortuary was a small place and Mr. Miller the only employee on the premises at the moment. He wouldn't be able to move two coffins by himself. Daryl lowered the lid but before his brother joined him, Mrs. Rhee pointed her finger at Merle and told him not to touch her husband.

Then she looked at her son and said, "Glenn."

Apparently, since Daryl hadn't called Mr. Rhee a Chinaman, he was allowed to help Glenn move the coffin. They rolled Pop up the aisle and parked him to one side in the hall between the Rose Room and the Peace Chapel.

The Rhee women filed back into the Peace Chapel. Merle closed the lid on Daddy Dixon and released the wheel lock. Daryl and Merle rolled him into the Rose Room. Then Daryl went back to the hall to help Glenn move Pop Rhee into the Peace Chapel.

"Thanks for your help," Glenn said to Daryl. "And sorry for your loss."

"You, too." Daryl thought about apologizing for Merle's comment but decided not to bring it up again. Besides, it wasn't Daryl's job to apologize for his brother's behavior although if it was a paid position Daryl could probably make good money.

Daryl stepped over to Mom and the girls and said, "Sorry for your loss."

Mrs. Rhee bowed her head gravely. The girls acknowledged him with shy smiles. Daryl nodded and returned a small smile of his own.

Glenn

I go down the hall to the men's room. Daryl Dixon is just coming out. Broad shoulders, great arms, blue eyes, brown hair. It's a little messy, not dirty, but probably not washed today. Maybe he didn't shower either. Why is that sexy as fuck to me? Well, 'fuck' has a lot to do with it. I wonder if I can smell male musk. I take a deep breath.

Daryl is looking at me as if he's having similar thoughts. He backs into the bathroom again and I follow him. He pulls me close and pushes me against the wall and grinds hard. I reach down and rub him through his pants.

"This is so wrong," I mumble. "Our fathers are dead."

"Grief," Daryl mutters as he opens my pants. "It's a reaction to death."

My phone rings.

It's Mom. How embarrassing to talk to my mother with phone in one hand and cock in the other. She asks what I'm doing. My mind blanks because obviously I can't tell the truth. I stutter and say I fell asleep, hoping she'll assume my incoherence is the result of being woke up. It's my fault for answering the phone while beating off. Normally I wouldn't but I don't want to ignore calls from her with Pop gone so recently. She likes to check in and only talks for a few minutes.

Being taken out of my fantasy with Daryl Dixon doesn't ruin the mood and I finish soon. It was so inappropriate to have been thinking of sex while standing by Pop's casket. I managed to dismiss my thoughts then but Daryl has fueled my dreams ever since. It's no use, of course. If I see him again it might be as Genie's date. He made a point of speaking to Mom and my sisters. At 20 Lisa is young for Daryl who looked to be in his early 30s. Genie is 26 and broke up a few months ago with her boyfriend. Genie is quieter than Lisa and me. She's beautiful and would like to marry and have a family. She felt bad that as the oldest she didn't give Pop a grandchild before he was gone. Daryl is a southern man who would probably appreciate a traditional wife. I've never been jealous before of my sister's dating pool. We aren't attracted to the same type of men. For the first time I want to compete with her. I hate feeling like this.

* * *

A week after Pop's funeral I decide to get a tattoo in his memory. I've never gotten one before but this seems like the right time. I don't want to embarrass myself as a first-timer in a big place so I pick a small shop called Inx. It looks old fashioned but clean and there's a current license and certificate in the window. I picture a kindly retired military man who has turned a hobby into a small business. Maybe with white hair and whiskers.

A big man is lounging in a recliner reading a magazine. He lowers it. Merle Dixon. Scratch kindly, white hair and whiskers. He might be retired military. He recognizes me. I'm a little scared but also relieved that I kind of know him.

"Help you?"

"Yes, please. If you do tattoos."

"Yep. Got something in mind?"

I pull out the paper I brought. "It's the Korean symbol for father."

Merle studies it then gets tracing paper and tells me to re-do it and make it a little bigger. He starts setting up as I do that.

"Which arm?" Merle asks.

"I thought maybe my chest."

Merle shakes his head. "Save that for your boyfriend."

"How did you know I'm gay?"

Merle shrugs.

"So you know one when you see one?"

"Pretty often. You might say I'm a people person."

I burst out laughing because that idea is too absurd. Fortunately Merle doesn't seem offended.

"Right arm. I'll put Mom on my left arm. Eventually."

I'm nervous because I have no idea if Merle is good at this although he seems to know what he's doing. I googled the process and he's doing all the right stuff for prep. He stencils the symbol onto my arm and lets me see it before starting the actual work. It looks good.

I'm really impressed when it's done. My skin is pale and smooth and Merle has made the symbol look like brush strokes on rice paper.

Merle gives me a sheet of care instructions and says not to worry if it looks different while scabbing and healing. He tells me to come back in a month for a free touch-up if any spots of color are missing.

I wonder what Daryl Dixon does. Inx is small with only one chair so it doesn't look like the brothers are in business together.

* * *

Two weeks after Pop's funeral my friends think I need cheering up so Aaron and Eric and Tara and Denise take me to Mary's, the best gay bar in Atlanta. I haven't had a partner for more than a year and they think it's time I found one. I don't tell them I already met somebody and he's probably straight and maybe interested in my sister.

There's a lot of dancing and drinking although the other four dance more than they drink and I drink more than I dance and I'm not used to it so three hours later I'm practically falling down. The bartender cuts me off and calls over a bouncer, a muscular black man who looks cheerful. Most bouncers look mean and serious in order to discourage trouble.

The bartender says that T-Dog will call me a cab. T-Dog helps me outside. My friends see what's happening and hustle over to take me home, but it's only midnight and Mary's is open until three and I don't want to ruin their evening. They're still arguing with me as the cab pulls up. They try to insist on going with me and I keep refusing.

"I'm starting the meter," a familiar voice says. "You can get this settled on your dime not mine. Fuck's sake, is this what friends are for? A man can't get drunk and go home to sleep it off without the troops rallyin' around?"

"We care." Eric sounds miffed.

"Because we are friends," Aaron adds.

"Just because you're alone doesn't mean everyone else has to be." Tara is belligerent. Denise doesn't say anything but she's obviously ready to back Tara up.

"I ain't alone," Merle Dixon says. "I got a woman can almost drink me under the table."

Tara starts to say something no doubt uncomplimentary about Merle's girlfriend. Time to defuse the situation.

"Guys, please. I love you all but I'm going home. Stay and have fun. I'll be fine. I know this guy."

They go back inside and Merle pulls away.

"Tattoos and clubbing. You're busting out since your daddy died."

"Just the tattoo. I've been clubbing before …" I drift away and the next thing I know Merle is hauling me out of the cab, digging out my keys and helping me to my apartment. He dumps me on the sofa, finds my wallet and pulls out some bills.

"Give yourself a nice tip."

"Already did." Merle tosses the wallet on the end table.

I'm almost asleep again but it sounds like Merle says, "You're hanging out with the wrong brother."

* * *

A few days later Mom wakes me up at one in the morning. She's frantic. The electricity went off and they can't get the generator started. I roll out and head to the family business, Organic Garden & Greenhouse. Mom and Pop started it when we moved to Georgia. My sisters and I grew up helping and the business is big enough that we all work there although Lisa is part-time since she's still in college studying horticulture. She does flower arrangements and she'll be worried about her orchids that have to be kept at certain temperatures and humidity. Genie is a master gardener and she'll be just as upset about produce in the coolers. I took landscape design along with business courses so we could expand beyond produce, plants and flowers.

I'm hoping to fix the generator quickly although I have my doubts. Mom and my sisters are competent and if they couldn't get it going it's probably serious. I try everything they've already done and it's no use. I hate to call the power company because commercial accounts are expected to avoid this type of emergency with a back-up generator. Which we have but the damn thing is broken.

I call a woman who has been a customer for several years and just happens to live with the guy at the power company recently promoted to be in charge of the line division.

"Michonne, this is Glenn Rhee at Organic Garden & Greenhouse. I'm so sorry to call in the middle of the night but we've got a potential mess here. The power is out and our generator isn't working. I should have called the hotline but I hoped you might be able to …"

"Smooth the way with Rick? I can do that. I'll call you back."

Ten minutes later Michonne calls and says a lineman will be here in twenty minutes.

"Thank you! Your next order is on the house." Michonne places a weekly order for fresh fruits and vegetables. Rick Grimes is a widower with a teenage son and a toddler daughter and Michonne doesn't want them eating food saturated with dangerous chemicals.

"No problem, Glenn. Rick says no other outages were reported so he's curious what happened."

OG&G fronts on a highway. There are trees behind it and beyond that is the house I grew up in. My sisters still live at home but I got an apartment nearby after college. My family knows I'm gay and it's not an issue but I wanted to keep my sex life private. Mom and the girls go back to wait in the house, their flashlights bobbing through the trees. As the man of the family, it's my duty to deal with the repairman.

There are no streetlights but I've got a big flashlight so I'm not in total darkness. We own land on either side of OG&G so there are no close neighbors or other businesses. I wonder why our power went out. There's no storm so weather isn't the reason. If it was a substation it should have caused a bigger outage so it must be our transformer. If the lineman can't fix it tonight, I'll have to call an electrician to work on the generator. Or borrow a generator. Maybe I should have tried that before calling Michonne. Too late now because headlights turn onto the access road and a Georgia Power truck pulls up.

Daryl Dixon gets out of the truck. We stare at each other. Thoughts tumble through my mind: I'm so happy to see him again – Now I know what Daryl does – I'm glad I called Michonne.

"Daryl Dixon," I say stupidly.

"Glenn Rhee," he replies. "Is this your place?"

"It's a family operation. I work here."

"Guess we would have met before if I shopped here."

"I bet your brother doesn't care about organic fruits and vegetables."

"Merle don't give much thought to fruits and veggies in general."

We smile. Well, Daryl smiles. I'm probably grinning like an idiot.

"Let's see what's going on here," Daryl says.

"I'm sorry you got called out for this."

"Part of the job. I live pretty close anyway."

Daryl is wearing a uniform shirt, work pants and laced boots. He looks more natural like this than in the suit at the mortuary. He puts on a hardhat with a light on the front, attaches gaffs to his lower legs and straps on a tool belt. It's got all kinds of things hooked on and it looks heavy. He hangs some straps and wire and a couple of lights cross body and pulls on gloves. He walks over to the pole and starts to climb, faster than I would have thought possible with the weight of all that equipment. I aim my flashlight up. At the top he straps himself to the pole and clamps the lights into position. He fiddles with something I can't see. I hope he's shutting off the power so he doesn't get electrocuted when it comes back on. Daryl has already inspired my confidence that he can fix it.

"Is it bad?" I ask.

"Naw. But you got some old wiring and connectors. I brought the wrong stuff up. Figured this section of line had already been updated."

Daryl works a few more minutes then comes down and digs in the back of his truck. He climbs the pole again. It looks like he's stripping the ends of wire. I wouldn't know for sure what he's doing even if I could see clearly. After awhile he pulls something off his tool belt that might be a line tester. He puts it away and does something else and suddenly a familiar whine fills the silence.

Daryl unclamps lights and straps and comes down the pole. He loads the truck while I thank him.

"Hope nothing got damaged," he says.

"I'm sure it's all right. The power has only been off two hours and we didn't open the coolers or greenhouse. But it's August in Georgia. It would be different if this happened when the sun was out."

We walk through the building to make sure everything is running. I recognize the sound of coolers humming and environmental controls kicking in. Mom and my sisters come over to report all is well at the house which I had assumed since lights were visible through the trees. Lisa and Genie go to check their orchids and produce.

Mom, you remember Daryl Dixon? We met at the mortuary."

Mom pats Daryl's cheek. "You're a good boy. You've helped us twice."

"Glad I could," Daryl says.

Lisa comes back and thanks him. Daryl looks ill at ease with all this gratitude. Mom and Lisa head back to the house. Genie shows up and thanks him. Being with Daryl the past hour I had almost forgotten Daryl might be interested in her. I man up and behave like a good brother should.

"Genie, you remember Daryl Dixon?"

Genie looks blank. How can she have forgotten him!

I remind her that we moved the caskets at the mortuary.

Genie nods, says goodnight and leaves.

"Genie was worried about the produce. I'm sorry she didn't remember."

"No reason she should. She had your dad on her mind that day."

"I just meant you shouldn't take it personally. In case you were interested."

"Uh, no. I mean, no offense to your sister but she's not the one …"

"Is it Lisa? Because she's only 20."

"No, I'm not interested in your sisters. I better be going."

"Wait. It's not my sisters and I assume you're not hot for my widowed Mom. So that leaves me."

"I made a mistake. I thought maybe you …"

"I am. I hoped you were, too. But you made a point of talking to Mom and my sisters and I thought you were straight and Genie caught your eye."

"I was trying to make a good impression on your family. I was planning to give it a month and look you up. Didn't want to make a move too soon after your dad died."

For the second time that night we smile at each other. Again, Daryl is smiling and I'm grinning like an idiot.

"And I wanted some time to pass so you'd forget what my brother said. It sounded bad but Merle don't mean all he says. He's not long out of the trees."

"You do seem to be more evolved but Merle's not so bad. Didn't he tell you we've met twice since then?"

Daryl shakes his head.

I pull up the sleeve of my shirt to show off the healed tattoo.

"Nice."

Daryl might be looking at my arm more than the tattoo.

"And then last weekend I went to a club with friends and drank too much so the bouncer put me in a cab. Merle was the driver."

Daryl nods. "He takes shifts pretty regular. I can't believe you've spent more time with Merle than with me."

"I hope that's about to change."

"Count on it. Hey, I gotta call my boss but first I wanna ask if you have any enemies. Like a rival who'd want to hurt your business?"

"No, nothing like that. We have competitors, of course, but everything is cordial when we meet at trade shows. None of them are very close to our location. We all have our territories. What was wrong? Was our transformer sabotaged?"

"Can't say for sure but it could have been deliberate. What about your generator?"

"That's in a locked shed and it wasn't broken into."

"Then the transformer was probably a freak accident and the generator bad luck. Weird shit happens sometimes."

Daryl closes out his work order and calls to report. He asks Rick to open another ticket for next week and assign it to him so he can come back and switch out the wiring and connectors. It would have taken too long to do it in the dark but it needs to be upgraded.

It's past three in the morning so we exchange cell numbers and Daryl says he'll call later. Driving back to my apartment, it feels right that Daryl and I met soon after Pop died. We were close, a father and son among the female members of the family. Not that I think of Daryl as a replacement for Pop but a different relationship in my life would be nice. I hope Daryl feels the same way about meeting me.

* * *

Daryl calls the next afternoon and I tell him the generator repairman is coming tomorrow. We go out to eat and exchange the usual info about family and our lives. It's easy and comfortable between us and we laugh over my misunderstanding about Genie.

Their father's death wasn't a tragedy to the Dixon brothers. Their mother died when the boys were young and their father failed to take up the slack in parenting.

"Daddy's real family was at the bottom of a bottle and he made sure to spend a lot of time there."

Daryl is matter-of-fact. Maybe he's not angry or resentful because he's got a work family of people who like and respect him.

* * *

We sleep together a few days later at my apartment. We're both ready and there's no reason to wait. Afterwards, we talk in bed. Daryl asks how I know Michonne.

"She teaches fencing and martial arts at the university. Lisa took a class and Michonne found out about OG&G and she's been a customer ever since."

Daryl gives a half-laugh and I ask him what's funny.

"I probably shouldn't say but you won't tell anybody else. Michonne is strong as hell and when you talked about her fencing and martial arts I remembered Rick saying their first time together he carried her to bed and almost dropped her because muscle is heavier than it looks. But he appreciates all that muscle because she's so limber."

"Do guys talk about sex at work?"

"Yeah, sports and sex mostly. Why?"

"I missed that. I've always worked with my family. Straight or gay, I wouldn't talk about sex with them."

"Never talked about it with my folks. Be glad to talk about sex with you but it's probably easier to show you."

"I like your demonstration so far."

Daryl upgrades our transformer the next week. The repaired generator takes over smoothly when he shuts our power down. It's his last work order for the day so he stays to dinner. Mom and my sisters are aware that we're seeing each other. Mom has even forgiven Merle because she likes my tattoo. She wants me to get hers done so she can see it before she dies. Which I hope won't be for a long time. Pop had a heart condition and while his death was sudden it wasn't unexpected. We've always known he wouldn't live to a ripe old age.

* * *

A month later I stay over with Daryl for the first time. I arrive before he gets home from work. Merle is there and I remember something he said the night I got drunk, about spending time with the wrong brother. Is it possible that Merle arranged matters?

"You didn't have anything to do with our transformer trouble, did you?"

"Whaddya mean?"

I explain what happened.

"Sounds complicated. I'm a simple man."

Which is not exactly a denial. I analyze the possibilities:

1\. Merle sabotaged the transformer. Merle looks like he could climb a pole and Daryl probably has old equipment at home. If the generator had worked, I would have waited until morning to report it. Day or night, it was likely that Daryl would be assigned since he lives nearby.

2\. Merle sabotaged the generator and the transformer. Merle looks like a person who could pick a lock.

3\. It was a freak accident and bad luck as Daryl suggested. In that case why would I suspect Merle? Because Merle looks like one of life's usual suspects. Why wouldn't he deny it? Because even if he didn't do it, he wouldn't mind being thought capable of it. Merle is deeper than he appears. Or maybe I should save some of my active imagination for sex with Daryl.

Merle leaves on his own business. Daryl makes dinner and then we make out while not watching a movie and then we go to bed where I apply my imagination with more than satisfactory results.

Later while Daryl is in the bathroom I notice a card stuck in the edge of the mirror over his dresser and get up to take a look. It's an invitation to Michonne and Rick's wedding. I get distracted when Daryl comes back. His shoulders fill the doorway. His cock is sticking straight out, aimed at me like a cannon. If he turned sideways, it might fill the doorway, too.

Daryl tips his head at the card in my hand. "You gonna be my plus one?"

"I've got an invitation of my own. Michonne is a long-time customer but we're not close friends and I was surprised to be invited. Maybe they're trying to set us up. Do they know we're already together?"

"Nope. I haven't been talking about my sex life at work."

"You and Rick are good friends. I thought you might be his best man."

"That'll be Rick's son. It's better to make Carl part of the wedding and it keeps Rick from showing favor. Boss has to be careful of stuff like that."

"How did he lose his wife?"

"Lori died during an emergency C-section with Judy. Rick was messed up all that summer. A bunch of us helped but Carl really stepped up. He was only 13 but he named the baby and held things together."

* * *

Daryl isn't a good shopper so we go together to pick a gift from both of us. 

The wedding is at the Greene farm in the country. It was a working farm while Hershel Greene had his veterinary practice. When he retired he turned the place into a bed-and-breakfast and small event center.  
There are still horses in the barn for guests to ride. Hershel is a friend of Rick's and I know the Greene family as well because they get produce from OG&G. It's a small world after all.

There's a large covered concrete slab with rolled up canvas walls that can be let down in case of rain but this late afternoon in October is perfect so the ceremony will be outside. The grass and trees are beautiful. Daryl and I sit down. Somebody sits beside me and I turn to see Merle.

"Do you know Rick and Michonne?"

"Naw, I'm here to cross something off my bucket list. Always wanted to do a bridesmaid at a wedding."

Daryl leans over and tells me Andrea is Merle's girlfriend and Michonne's best friend. Okay, not quite as horrifying as I thought. So Andrea is the woman who can almost drink Merle under the table. I can't wait to get a look at her.

Rick and Carl take their places. A beautiful blonde walks by, graceful even on the lawn which is probably tricky to negotiate in heels. She doesn't look like a drinker. She winks at Merle as she passes. I have a feeling the bucket list is mutual. As often happens at weddings, the flower girl is a big hit. Judith is three and has obviously been well-rehearsed. She looks serious as she takes a step and scatters a handful of petals from her little basket. She stops, looks around, remembers to smile sweetly then takes another step. Her progress is slow but the aisle between the rows of chairs is short and everyone enjoys the show. She runs the last few steps to her dad and Rick lifts her up.

Michonne is stunning in a sleeveless white sheath that sets off her dark skin. Her dreads are coiled on top of her head and she looks like an African queen. Not 'The African Queen' which was a dirty little steamboat.

The ceremony is simple and short and everyone applauds when Judge Deanna Moore presents the couple as husband and wife. There's no formal reception line. It's a small wedding – about 40 people – so Michonne and Rick will have time to talk to everyone during the evening. We all carry our chairs to the covered porch where tables are set up and a buffet is waiting. Michonne, Rick, Judith, Carl and his girlfriend Enid sit together. Carl and Enid are watching out for Judith so the bride and groom can greet their guests. Later, Judith will go to bed in the Greene house and Hershel's daughter Beth will stay with her so everyone else can dance. Daryl introduces me to friends and co-workers.

Michonne and Rick are leaving tomorrow for a week in Jamaica. Andrea is staying at their house to take care of Judith and keep an eye on Carl. I can't resist a little jab at Merle.

"Are you going to be babysitting while Andrea is at work?"

"Hell no. Judy goes to daycare and Andrea has baby duty the rest of the time. I'm there to keep Carl from knocking up his girl while his folks are fucking on the beach."

Division of labor is an important part of being a couple. I think of something else to jab Merle.

"Being with Judith so long might affect Andrea."

Merle looks puzzled.

"Tick, tick, tick. That's a biological clock if you didn't recognize it. Maybe Andrea will want a baby."

Merle looks wary. "We got protection."

"You provide the condoms?"

'We been together long enough to give them up. Andrea uses something or takes a pill." Merle looks uneasy about his lack of information.

"The only way to be sure is a vasectomy."

Merle winces. Daryl is being careful not to laugh. I consider that I've gotten even with Merle for being cagey about the transformer.

There was champagne with dinner but after the buffet is cleared away the beer and hard stuff comes out and the dancing starts. It gets rowdy but not wild.

A couple of hours later the DJ makes an announcement: "Important part of the evening coming up next, folks. Linemen, take your places. Guess I better say line workers. There are a couple of fine women here who took up pole climbing instead of pole dancing. Michonne, get up there with Rick, you're a honorary lineman tonight."

Daryl gets up. I ask Andrea what's happening.

"It's a tradition. There's an old song called _Wichita Lineman_ and when the linemen are drunk enough they sing it together."

Daryl, Carol and Tyreese are beside Rick with Sasha, Abraham and Eugene on the other side of Michonne. Their arms are around each others' shoulders. The music rolls out.

 _I am a lineman for the county_  
_And I drive the main road_  
_Searchin' in the sun for another overload_  
_I hear you singin' in the wire_  
_I can hear you through the whine_  
_And the Wichita lineman is still on the line._

 _I know I need a small vacation_  
_But it don't look like rain_  
_And if it snows that stretch down south_  
_Won't ever stand the strain_  
_And I need you more than want you_  
_And I want you for all time_  
_And the Wichita lineman is still on the line._

 _And I need you more than want you_  
_And I want you for all time_  
_And the Wichita lineman is still on the line._

I learned my lesson about drinking that night Merle drove me home. I'm barely buzzed but still the words make me tear up a little. This is a tight group of friends. So many connections link everybody together. I'm grateful to be one of the links and even more grateful for this amazing connection with Daryl.

* * *

 Daryl

lt was a cold, stormy night in February, the kind that might mean electrical trouble in a poor area where infrastructure isn't always a priority for municipal services. Nights like these when Daryl was on call, he kept his phone on vibrate in his hand so a loud ring wouldn't disturb Glenn. The phone went off at two in the morning. Daryl slipped silently from bed and took it to the bathroom. After getting the details, he pissed and headed back to the bedroom to dress. There was a light and sounds from the kitchen so Glenn had woke up after all. By the time Daryl pulled on long underwear and coveralls he could smell coffee.

Hard to believe how his life had changed – all for the better – in the last six months. Before Christmas Merle moved in with Andrea and Glenn moved in with Daryl. Glenn is about the same distance from OG&G as before but in the other direction. He likes the small-town life of Benford on the outskirts of Atlanta better than his apartment in the city. In the spring he's planning to landscape the yard around their house which is in pretty pitiful condition.

Daryl's only regret was that if he ate healthier they would have met sooner. He'd driven by OG&G a number of times but figured there was nothing there he would be interested in. But Glenn would have been too young years ago and then he was in college and helping his family. He's 24 now to Daryl's 32 so the timing is good after all. They fit together in ways other than sex although that's the best either has ever experienced.

Glenn was at the counter with his back to Daryl, filling an insulated mug, as Daryl approached in socks. His boots were at the door. He leaned over to kiss the back of Glenn's neck without touching him but Glenn wasn't startled.

"Thought I might surprise you if I snuck up on you."

"You behind me with a hard-on is no surprise," Glenn said. "You'll have to try something else."

"This is all I got."

"Well, it's plenty." Glenn pushed back and wiggled his ass and even through the layers between them Daryl's dick targeted the right spot like a homing pigeon.

"If that's giving you trouble when you get home, wake me up. I'll see what I can do."

Two hours later Daryl took Glenn up on his offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Glen Campbell - Wichita Lineman](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_fwOTDaO4bg)  
>  This version begins with some great images of the countryside and linemen at work and ends with Campbell in various performances of the song. Sadly, he is now lost to Alzheimer's.


	19. Competition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Competition: contest for a prize, honor or advantage.
> 
> Daryl and Glenn meet at the Olympics.

Glenn

I'm at the Olympics! To be accurate, I'm in the Olympics. Rio de Janeiro 2016. This is my first and possibly only time and I'm nervous enough to be glad that I'm on the USA baseball team and won't be competing as an individual. I can't imagine the pressure of being on my own. On the other hand, if I fuck up I'll let down the entire team not just myself so there's plenty of pressure no matter what. But that's where training and discipline come in. And skill of course. You don't get far without it. But you have to build on that and learn to concentrate, focus, and block out distractions so you can perform under any circumstances.

So I'll think about something else, like my roommate here in Olympic Village. Rooms are reserved by sport and country but if there's an odd number you might end up sharing with someone from another sport. When filling out the paperwork I volunteered for random assignment. My teammates are great guys and we work well together but I like meeting new people and don't mind sharing with a stranger. A sign on the door shows Glenn Rhee and Dwight Amelio but Dwight's name has been crossed out and Daryl Dixon written in. I like it. Two syllables in each name rolls off my tongue. My name with one syllable each sounds short and harsh.

I got here first so I pick a bed, dump my gear and sit down but before I can pull out my phone to look up Daryl Dixon's profile, a figure appears in the doorway. My first thought is that his name isn't the only thing I want on my tongue. He looks a bit taller than me, more solid, and maybe a decade older than my 23. Wonder what his sport is. He's got the shoulders and arms of a wrestler, swimmer or gymnast but those guys usually have short head hair and no body hair. Daryl Dixon's brown hair is a little long and shaggy and there's some facial hair as well. What I can see of his skin doesn't look like a furry beast but he's got a natural amount of body hair. He's not packing any extra weight but he doesn't have the lean look and ropey muscles of a runner or cyclist. Maybe he rows or canoes. His eyes are very blue with faint lines around them and he doesn't look like the type who's always laughing so maybe they're from squinting while aiming. He might be a shooter. There's a duffel bag in one hand and equipment bags over his shoulder. One case looks big enough to hold a rifle.

I smile and say, "Glenn Rhee. Baseball," and tip my head at the other bed. "If you hate that side of the room I'm happy to switch."

"It's fine." Daryl drops the duffel and lays the equipment cases down gently. "Daryl Dixon. Archery."

A bowman. He shoots arrows instead of bullets.

Daryl drops to the bed looking dazed. "I shouldn't be here," he mutters.

He's talking to himself but I hear him. Crisis of confidence. It happens to a lot of athletes. There was a moment when I stepped off the airport shuttle and the enormity of the situation hit me and I couldn't believe I made it.

"We've all earned our place here, Daryl."

Daryl shakes his head. "Not me. Not this place. I was the alternate but Dwight hurt his hand."

"Wow. Alternates almost never get to compete. Bad luck for your teammate but good luck that it happened now. Olympic rules don't allow substitutions after an event starts."

"Yeah. There's two other guys for the individual but we would have been screwed on the team event."

"So it's a good thing you're here or the team couldn't compete."

Before Daryl can speak again a rough voice booms from the hall: "Daryl! Where the hell are you?"

"In here."

A man with buzzed hair going gray looms in the doorway. His eyes match my roommate's so I'm not surprised when Daryl says, "My brother. Merle, this is Glenn Rhee."

"I thought they assigned rooms by country. How'd you end up with China?"

"I'm from Michigan. If my parents hadn't emigrated thirty years ago, I'd be from South Korea, not China."

"Whatever. What's your sport?"

"Baseball."

"Well, you can't get more American than that," Merle says grudgingly.

"Actually, South Korea is our strongest competitor in baseball."

"Same for archery," Daryl adds.

Merle shakes his head. "Over-achieving assholes."

Merle Dixon has not embraced politically correct culture. I'm a people-pleaser myself but I have a sneaking admiration for someone who just puts it all out there.

Daryl moves over so Merle can sit on the bed. Olympic Village rooms are like dorms, small and functional with the bare minimum of furniture.

"So much for partying in Rio," Merle says to Daryl.

"As soon as I was officially out of the running as an alternate we were planning to have a good time down here," Daryl explains to me. "Now we can't."

"Speak for yourself, bow boy. I swung by to say I'll see you in a week when archery is over. Good thing it's on early. You'll have the rest of the time to catch up."

"Aren't you going to watch your brother compete?" I don't admire Merle's uncaring attitude.

"I didn't think he'd be competing," Merle replies.

"As family you can still get a ticket."

"He's got a ticket," Daryl says. "He'll be there."

"Wouldn't miss it," Merle agrees. "Unless I'm in bed with a Brazilian beauty."

"Well then, you'll definitely be there," I say snippily. But I'm happy to see that behind the banter Merle is proud of his brother.

Daryl

Merle left to find his hotel room and maybe a female companion in order to take advantage of being the only occupant now that Daryl was in Olympic Village. A few minutes later Daryl's teammates showed up.

"Glad to have you with us, Daryl." Paul Rovia of Virginia was the lead member, an easy-going guy that Daryl had got to know fairly well and liked. His nickname was Jesus due to the obvious resemblance to popular depictions of Christ but he'd warned everybody not to call him that in Brazil where religion was taken very seriously.

"We're next door," Spencer Monroe said. "Stop by any time." Spencer was from Ohio, a nice enough kid, rich and a little entitled because his mother was a member of Congress.

Daryl introduced Glenn, and then asked, "How's Dwight doing? Is he staying?"

"No, he's flying home tonight." Paul's tone indicated disapproval.

"Can't blame him," Daryl said.

"I can," Paul replied. "Hell of a disappointment but he should stay and support us. He's not in pain, his hand just isn't strong enough to compete."

"Good bowman but not a good sport," Spencer added.

"Hope I make a decent showing in his place," Daryl said.

"You'll do fine," Spencer assured him.

"You and Dwight were so close the qualifying final could have gone either way," Paul said.

Daryl admitted to himself that he didn't much care for Dwight and had been pissed when Dwight edged him out for the third spot.  
Still, it would be a terrible blow to come this far and get hurt.

Paul and Spencer went back to their room. Pretty soon a whole herd of guys crowded in, announcing that their rooms were just down the hall. Glenn introduced his team and the herd wandered away.

"What position do you play?" Daryl asked.

"Outfield."

Daryl thought that fit. The kid looked fast and had a quick mind to match. His arm looked strong and flexible. Daryl stopped himself imagining Glenn in a snug-fitting baseball uniform with a cap covering his smooth and shiny black hair.

"You said you're from Michigan? Cold up there."

"Only in the winter. You're from the south?"

"Georgia. A little town near Atlanta called Benford."

"Any family besides Merle?"

"Nope, our folks died young. You?"

"Parents and two sisters in Ann Arbor."

"Your family come down with you?"

"No, it's really expensive plus Mom and Pop both work and it's hard for them to get away this time of year. I'm the youngest. My sisters are both married. Genie has a little boy and Lisa is pregnant with her first. My parents are having a big neighborhood party for people to come and watch with them."

"You got that right about the cost of airfare and hotels. I was lucky. A retired neighbor has an RV and he takes off all over the country. The last couple of years Dale took me to regional and national qualifying contests. When it came time to go overseas, Benford had a fundraiser for my travel expenses. When I was named alternate, the local vet Doc Greene paid for Merle to come with me."  
    

"That sounds nice. What a great place."

"Well, small towns are like that."

"The national baseball team is funded. They don't throw money at us but there's enough for the essentials so the players don't have to go into debt."

"What did you do before getting on the team?"

"College. I did three years and then took a chance to make a dream come true."

"And you made it. Will you stay with the team?"

"I don't think so. I really want to finish college and I've only got one year left plus grad school if I decide to do that."

"You're young. You could stick with baseball awhile and still have time for college."

"I suppose. But for me, it's more about the journey. Don't get me wrong, I want to win really badly but no matter what happens I'll always have this experience. How about you? What do you do when you're not competing?"

"Me and Merle have a lawn care business. We do okay but we had to hire help while I was training and traveling and that eats up profit so things have been tight lately."

Glenn

Daryl and I are wearing official USA sweatpants and tee shirts but it's time to change into white pants, striped tops and blue blazers. When we strip to our underwear I see that I was wrong about Daryl not packing any extra weight. It's between his legs, a noticeable bulge. I'm careful not to lick my lips.

The opening ceremony is pure pageantry. I've only just met Daryl but I bet he thinks it's too much of a spectacle. It's a little overblown but I love it anyway, especially walking with the USA athletes in the parade of nations. Even Daryl is impressed with that and the torch ritual.

Afterwards we meet up with Merle. Daryl and his team spend a few minutes making plans for tomorrow so Merle takes the opportunity to ask me, "What's this women's dress-age?"

"Dressage." I correct his pronunciation. "It's an equestrian event. Why?"

"I met a woman who's got a sister in it."

"Really. What woman?"

"Andrea Harrison."

I pull up the event on my phone. Amy Harrison is entered. A young, pretty blonde. 

"Giddy-up!" Merle is peering over my shoulder at a picture of Amy with her dressage coach. "Tight pants, ball busters and a whip."

"Are you referring to her jodhpurs, riding boots and crop?"

"Andrea used to do this horse stuff but she never made it to the Olympics. Went to law school instead and makes big bucks now. Wonder if she still has the outfit. Little dominatrix thing going on."

I google Andrea Harrison and learn she's a constitutional lawyer in Jacksonville, Florida with excellent credentials and appears to be known and respected. She's older than her sister but also blonde and beautiful. The circles she moves in are probably kind of stuffy. Maybe she wants a fling in Rio with a bad boy. Merle fits that profile.

"You a gay boy, ain't you?" Merle asks.

"I prefer gay man."

"In the south we tend to call men boys."

"Especially black men?"

"Not so much anymore. I was thinking of good ole boys."

"Okay. Yes, I'm gay. You're not homophobic, are you?"

"Nope. Just wondered how they knew to put you and my brother together."

I freeze. Does this mean what I hope it means?

"Is Daryl …?"

"Yep."

"I didn't know. And I'm pretty sure the people assigning rooms don't know we're gay either."

"What a coincidence, then."

"Does Daryl have a boyfriend?"

"Don't you mean man friend?"

I sigh. "Is your brother seeing anyone?"

"Naw. He's been busy training and going to all them qualifying contests."

"Same for me. It's probably true for a lot of athletes trying to get to the Olympics."

Merle shakes his head. "Can't be good for a man to be all pent up for a long time."

I agree with Merle.

* * *

Archery and baseball both take place the first week of the Olympics but archery is in the morning and baseball in the afternoon so I'm able to watch the men's ranking round of 64 archers from around the globe. They use recurve bows. Daryl places at #19 which is excellent for an alternate who wasn't expected to compete. Paul is #2 and Spencer #23 so Daryl did better than the second man on their team. That's the way it goes in sports. Anyone can do better or worse on a given day.

The team event is before the individual. USA does great all the way through to the finals but they fall to South Korea who takes the gold. Daryl, Paul and Spencer look pretty pleased with silver. I swear I can hear Merle's delighted bellow across the stands. Celebration is low-key because the individual eliminations begin tomorrow. Daryl is more relaxed after performing well with the team.

* * *

Meanwhile, USA baseball is on fire. Baseball has been on and off at the Olympics the last few decades. It's back this year. The games are longer than archery sets but there are only eight countries competing so it evens out time wise. It's a round robin tournament and we just keep winning but so does South Korea.

* * *

The 64 archers are seeded so that the highest ranked will meet later in the event. In the 32 round elimination #1 goes against #64, #2 against #63, etc. so Daryl at #19 shoots against #46 and wins easily. So do Paul and Spencer. In the 16 round elimination, Paul again wins easily against #36 but Spencer loses to #10. Daryl faces #14 and it's close but he wins. Paul and Daryl advance to the quarterfinals. Daryl will be shooting against #8 and the reality is that he probably won't make it to the semi-finals. Once more, Paul wins against a lesser rank and then Daryl outshoots his higher ranked opponent. The first time it happened the ranks were closer but this time it's an upset and people are beginning to watch Daryl.

* * *

Back on the diamond, after a couple more wins each, USA plays South Korea in the finals but unlike archery, South Korea loses and gets silver. USA wins the gold! And I helped! I can hear Merle cheering. Daryl has come to all my games and he looks almost as happy as me. I call home. It's a long conversation because the whole family is on speakerphone.

* * *

Archery semi-finals today. Paul, originally ranked at #2, is still shooting against lesser ranked opponents but Daryl at #19 continues to face better ranked. Paul wins as expected but so does Daryl and that's beyond all expectation. Tomorrow Paul and South Korea will go for gold and silver. Daryl and France will face each other for bronze.

Daryl and France go first. I'm practically hyperventilating. Daryl was tense last night but he looks calm now. France looks a little worried because #19 has come so far and is now shooting against #4. Maybe it throws the guy off just enough because Daryl squeaks by to win the bronze! South Korea at #1 and Paul at #2 keep their original ranks in the end: South Korea takes the gold and Paul the silver.

This time I don't hear Merle. I look across the stands and he's sitting there stunned into silence. A woman beside him grabs his arm, obviously excited. Merle turns to her and she kisses him. Mouth not cheek. She's blonde and beautiful. I've only seen a picture online but even at this distance it looks like Andrea Harrison.

My baseball dream is fulfilled but I have a new dream involving Daryl. The baseball and archery teams celebrate together and everybody lets go, although I don't get too drunk because I'm going to try and seduce Daryl later. As it turns out, I don't have to try very hard. In fact, it's mutual. And so satisfying that I forget my gold medal for awhile. But later Daryl and I blow each other wearing our medals. Around our cocks, not our necks. Daryl's cock would win platinum. Or maybe titanium, it's harder. Condoms aren't a problem because the bedside drawers are stuffed with them. I had heard that a lot of sex happens at the Games and the Olympic committee tries to make sure it's safe sex.

* * *

For the next two weeks Daryl and I are always together, sometimes with Merle and Andrea. We go to the women's equestrian dressage events and watch Amy Harrison win the bronze. She's only 21 and this is her first Olympics. Andrea is sure her sister will want to try again.

                                                                                 
                                                   

Daryl and I go sightseeing to the usual places: Christ the Redeemer statue, Sugarloaf Mountain, Tijuca National Park, the beach.

                                                  

                                           

We also spend a lot of time in bed and talking after sex. I ask how Daryl decided to try for the Olympics.

"I hunted with a regular bow and arrows when I was little then went on to BB gun, shotgun and rifle. I worked some with a recurve bow but mostly liked the crossbow as I got older. Never thought about competing until the last few years when I got to be friends with the Benford sheriff. Rick Grimes shoots competitively with pistol and rifle and talked me into entering a local contest with the recurve. I did all right and ended up going to state. It was a goof at first, just to see how far I could get before coming up against somebody really good. But I kept doing okay and finally got named alternate. And now I've got two Olympic medals. Nothing like this has ever happened to a Dixon before."

"Will you go for the gold in four years?"

"Nope. I'm 34 and my eyes aren't going to get any sharper. I started late. I don't think I'll ever do better than right here in Rio. Maybe on a good day now and then but not consistently. And consistent is what you need to depend on, not once-in-a-lifetime luck."

"That's a healthy attitude." And realistic but I don't say it. Daryl could continue to do well for a number of years but dramatic improvement won't happen and he wouldn't want to embarrass himself. Better to retire as the unlikely winner that everyone cheered for a moment instead of fading slowly away.

"Besides, I'm tired of training and traveling," Daryl adds. "I didn't mind for a couple of years because this was my shot at something big but I don't want to make it my life's work. I haven't gone hunting with Merle for a year."

"Did your friend the sheriff go to the Olympics?"

"Naw, he married young when Lori got pregnant. Carl is 15 now. Rick got into law enforcement and started shooting but only locally. He's a real family man and trying for the Olympics takes a lot of time and money. Three years ago Lori died when their little girl Judith was born. He got a girlfriend last year. Michonne took gold in 2008 for fencing. I don't know if she actually won. Her opponents might have just run off scared." Daryl chuckles. "She's got a presence, for sure."

    
Quite a few athletes who have been to other Olympics left early, some right after their events ended. First-timers like Daryl and me want to see everything so we stay through the closing ceremony Sunday night. It rains but we don't mind. Afterwards we spend our last night together in the room that has been home for almost three weeks. Tomorrow Daryl and Merle will fly to Atlanta and I'll head to Chicago then on to Ann Arbor.

This thing between us started as sexual release after life-changing moments for both of us but it's turned into much more. The next morning I ask when we'll get together back home and right away I know something is wrong.

Daryl looks surprised. "Georgia and Michigan aren't near. And I need to get back to work. Merle has been picking up the slack for me."

I've made a terrible mistake but I can't let Daryl see that our time together meant more to me than to him. I force a smile and say, "And I need to spend time with my family. I'll have a new niece soon and I hardly know the nephew I've already got."

Daryl nods, apparently accepting that getting together was a casual comment, something people say but don't mean. "Time to get back to real life," he says.

My face feels wooden from keeping the smile in place but I manage to say, "I'm glad we were roommates. I can't imagine the Olympics with anyone else."

A slightly awkward kiss then Merle shows up to help Daryl with his equipment and we say goodbye.

I'm taking a shuttle to the airport with my team soon. I can't believe I misread the situation so badly. And I feel even worse because Daryl may be right. We've been living in a bubble the past weeks. He's older and wiser, I'm young and impulsive. I got caught up in a romantic fantasy and now the bubble has burst.

* * *

Three months later the memory of Daryl is still strong. I miss him and I have to try once more. I have a reasonably good excuse to call. He sounds happy enough to hear from me but not like he's been pining. In other words, not like me.

"My team got an endorsement deal. We'll be appearing on a cereal box."

"That's good going," Daryl says.

"It's not a lot of money split between the team but my Mom is thrilled."

"My team got an endorsement, too. We're on a special boxed set of archery accessories. It's a little extra money but not a big deal like swimmers and gymnasts get."

"My endorsement is less than the medal money." The U.S. pays $25,000 to gold medal winners, $15,000 to silver and $10,000 to bronze. That means Daryl and I got the same amount.

"Mine, too. I used a chunk of the medal money to throw a party for the whole town. To thank them for helping."

"I'm going all out on Christmas for my family this year and saving the rest for college."

There's nothing more to say so we wish each other Happy Thanksgiving and hang up.

It's over.

* * *

Daryl

Daryl lay in bed naked. His dick was limp, hand and thighs sticky. He stared at the cereal box on the chest of drawers opposite the bed. He was an Olympic medalist who jerked off to a picture of Glenn's face surrounded by his team members. He had thought he could sink no lower.

Until he cried a little after he came.

It was time for action. Maybe Glenn had already moved on – and no wonder if he had, after Daryl didn't respond to his phone call – but if Daryl had blown his chance he had to know and then find a way to get through the rest of his life.

Daryl had known what Glenn was offering on their last day in Rio but the kid was a lot younger and Daryl didn't think Glenn knew what he was doing. He wanted to finish college. He had family and a full life in Michigan. Daryl was born and raised in Georgia and didn't want to move even for Glenn. And it was cold in Michigan, especially in January.

Glenn

I'm staring at a pile of archery accessories on the end table. The box they came in with the picture of Daryl, Paul and Spencer is in the bedroom on my nightstand.

It's been five months since Rio and two months since I called Daryl. It's his move and he's not going to make it. I may be pathetic but I'm not pitiful enough to call again.

My phone rings. I pick it up expecting to see Mom or Pop on caller ID. I almost drop it when Daryl's name and number displays. It's the middle of January. Is this my late Christmas present?

"Hello."

"Hey."

Keep calm. Don't gush. "How are you?"

"Okay. You?"

"I'm all right."

"Are you home? Am I interrupting?"

"I'm home alone. You're not interrupting. I'm glad you called."

"Yeah?" Daryl pauses. "I'm not too late?"

"It's only nine o'clock."

"You know what I mean. Are you seeing anybody?"

"No." This sounds promising. I settle back on the sofa and start to unzip my jeans in case it turns into phone sex. "I wish you were here."

"I am and I'm freezing to death."

"What! Are you joking?"

"Well, I'm not really …"

"I knew it was too good to be true."

"I'm outside your building but I'm probably not freezing to death. Yet."

I stumble to the window that looks out on the access road beside my apartment building. Daryl is standing in the snow with a phone to his ear. No hat, gloves or scarf. No wonder he's cold, he doesn't know how to dress for the weather. A cab idles at the curb. I open the window and yell, "Up here!" Daryl lifts his other hand and waves.

"I'll buzz you in. No, I'll come down and meet you." We hang up. I'm so excited I can barely breathe. Daryl turns to pay off the cab and I run for the door and race down the stairs. There's an elevator but it's only two flights and I'm an Olympic athlete.

Daryl opens the outer door as I open the inner one. I launch myself across the entry way and he catches me and then we're kissing. His lips are cold but his tongue is warm. The kiss is wonderful but what his being here means is even better. We take the elevator up because kissing when standing still is easier than while climbing stairs.

Daryl is wearing work boots and pants and a flannel shirt under a coat. In my apartment he sheds the coat.

"That's not heavy enough. A parka would keep you warm."

"You can keep me warm." Daryl notices my jeans are half open. "You sure I didn't interrupt something?"

"Before I knew you were outside I thought self-pleasure was all I would get tonight."

"That's all I've had lately."

"Are you really ready for more? Is that why you're here?"

"Yeah." Daryl sighs. "I don't know what took me so long. Dumb or stubborn maybe."

"What made you smarter?"

"I turned 35 and realized I was missing a bigger deal in life than the Olympics. Then I got scared I waited too long so I took the first flight out. I'm glad you didn't give up on me."

"That wouldn't happen."

"What if I hadn't come up here? You're the one for me but you could get any guy you want."

"And you're the one I want." I go to my desk and pull out an official-looking letter.

Daryl reads it. "University of Georgia confirming your transfer from University of Michigan." He looks at me. "I could have stayed home instead of coming to this frozen hell?"

"If you wanted to wait seven more months. I won't be there until August."

"Waiting would be worse than Michigan in winter."

"You'll be fine. We'll stay inside. In bed."

"Sounds good."

"You can meet my family. How long can you stay?"

"Three days."

"How's Merle?"

"Wearing out the road between Georgia and Florida."

"He and Andrea are still seeing each other?"

"Yep. The law firm she's partner at has an office in Atlanta so she's transferring."

"Both the Dixons will have a better half."

"I'd be offended except it's true."

"It's not but I had to say it anyway." Have I always had a secret snarky side or is it a result of exposure to Merle? That seems to be when it started.

"Can you come to Georgia sooner?"

"No." I'm regretful but firm. "I've already started this semester and I'm signed up for two more courses this summer. But I can come down for spring break and for a week between summer sessions. I have to take extra classes because I changed my major to sports medicine."

"You gonna be a doctor?"

"A physical therapist. Rehab exercises, massage and physical therapy relating to sports injuries."

"Massage?"

"I thought that would get your attention. I'll need someone to practice on."

"I'm your man."

"You certainly are."

Love isn't a competition. But we both won anyway.  
  
                                               

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Rise' is a very good theme song but 'One Moment In Time' is the one that always makes me really feel the Olympics. Plus there's a great baseball scene starting at 3:56. Glenn likes to bottom but I hope he's not on the bottom there!
> 
> [Whitney Houston - One Moment In Time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=96aAx0kxVSA)
> 
> [Katy Perry - Rise](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lFIIMEe2Ht0)


	20. Contamination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contamination: infected by something harmful.
> 
> Daryl gets bit after two years with Glenn.

Daryl

Everybody resented giving up their weapons, you most of all, but it was the price of admission to the Alexandria Safe Zone. The group had to get off the road. Like Glenn told the Monroe woman, "We were almost out there too long."

You could have kept going with Glenn. The two of you would have been okay but the rest of them needed this. You and Glenn need it, too, if you're being honest. Houses, furniture, enough food and water – it's like a dream of the way life used to be.

You don't think much of the ASZ so far. The community itself looks secure but the people inside haven't been tested, nothing like what your group has gone through. They've been living in an ivory tower – behind steel walls actually – with all the comforts of modern life intact. They make supply runs with plenty of weapons in reliable vehicles filled with gas and think that makes them survivors.

Nicholas, on guard duty when you first arrived, gave himself away. Everybody had walked inside when Rick heard a faint snarl and saw a walker. He said one word quietly, "Sasha" and she calmly aimed through the bars of the gate and fired a perfect shot that blew the walker's head apart.

Nicholas gulped and stared. He probably would have just shut the gate and left the walker alive to wander around and be a danger to everybody in the future.

To be fair, not all these folks are helpless. You have a grudging respect for Aaron and Eric, especially Aaron. Takes some balls to go out looking for people to recruit and Aaron approached your armed, rough-looking group alone. Even you thought it was a little cold when Rick laid him out with that right cross. Later that night after Aaron kissed Eric and Rick was going to keep them separated, you would have protested if Glenn hadn't spoke up first. Rick let them stay together, maybe realizing what it would mean to you and Glenn if anybody tried to keep you apart.

It's interesting to see another gay couple and to know that Alexandria doesn't pay any more mind to them than the group does to you and Glenn. As long as Aaron doesn't pay attention to Glenn, either. You don't like the way he's been seeking Glenn out, being helpful and welcoming. Let him welcome the women.

You didn't notice it the first couple of days, what with settling in and everybody having their interview with Deanna Monroe. You'd kind of accepted Aaron already because he brought all of you here and everything he said had proven true so far. You subconsciously trusted him with Glenn because he has a boyfriend and he was hella worried about Eric that night.

But Eric is less mobile due to a broken ankle and Aaron's been hanging around your group in general and Glenn in particular. Aaron has likely been assigned as liaison but in that case he should be going around to everybody in the group, not concentrating on your man.

Carol is the one Aaron and Alexandria should be suspicious of. You won't give her away because she's obviously playing a deep con of her own and you like her style. You knew she was up to something the minute she walked through the gates and turned back into the meek housewife you first knew. Awkwardly turning over her guns like she wasn't sure which was the business end. Now she's smiling and wearing sweater sets and trading recipes like a Stepford Wife. You and Rick are glad to have somebody on the inside that Alexandria sees as non-threatening. If only they knew.

But that leaves you free to brood about your own situation. You're pretty sure there's nothing going on yet and you want to make sure nothing develops. You haven't had sex since arriving because the group has been staying together in one house. You're splitting up today and you and Glenn will have your own room because these McMansions have about five bedrooms apiece plus the attics, which have been claimed by Carl and Noah.

Most everybody cleaned up that first day, including Glenn, but you haven't yet. Carol threatened to hose you down. You're aware that you smell fairly ripe which didn't matter out there but you're sure that Glenn won't let you onto the fresh sheets in your present state. When he came out of the bathroom that first day, he was like a lotus blossom. That's an Asian flower, isn't it? You don't usually wax poetical about his skin but it had been a long time since you saw it clearly. It's been two days since the first shower and Glenn will be ready for a follow-up so you may as well join him and remind yourself what you look like under the blood, sweat and dirt.

Upstairs, Glenn is organizing your few belongings. You ask if he'd like to jump in with you after you've rinsed off the top layer of filth. His eyes light up which is flattering until he says he has to run down to Aaron's house for a quick word but he'll be right back.

You nod and get in the shower, pissed off but willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. By the time you've scrubbed your skin raw and washed your hair three times and brushed your teeth, you're furious because Glenn isn't back yet. You consider faking sleep but that would be punishing yourself and you have to admit that hot water and being clean for the first time in weeks is as big a turn-on as down and dirty sex with danger nearby can sometimes be. You don't get a chance to fuck in a real bed very often. That night at the CDC almost two years ago. A couple times at Hershel's farm when you and Glenn snuck into an empty bedroom in the big old farmhouse. The farm was peaceful at first even with the worry about Sophia missing and Carl shot. The prison had its moments. Cell sex got Glenn all excited. He has an imagination and you don't mind the result. Everything went to hell after that: separation, Terminus, Beth gone. You've all been scrambling ever since.

It's odd but you feel more protective of Glenn behind these walls. He can handle himself out there. Walkers go for anybody, no discrimination. In here, Glenn is a prime target – a smart, friendly, good-looking kid. Aaron knows you and Glenn are together and he has a hurt man of his own he should be looking after. You go cold at a new thought: Aaron better not be angling for a three-way.

So instead of going to bed you sit up and wait with the lights out and when Glenn comes in and turns to close the door, you're on him like a wolf on a lamb. You spin him around and crowd him against the door, pressing your pelvis to his so he can feel unmistakably how aroused you are and seconds later you're satisfied to feel his response to you.

You're naked. You reach down with one hand and open his jeans and grind your dicks together. He's moaning but there's no objection in it which is good because you're not in the mood to stop or even slow down. Glenn arches against you and throws his head back, exposing his neck. You've been bruising his mouth with yours, tongues thrusting in time to hips lower down. Now your mouth moves to his neck, nipping with intent to hurt then pretending to soothe the bite with a lick that turns into a hard suck that you hope leaves a mark. You've been known to mark your territory in the past but it was unseen places like rosy circles around Glenn's nipples or bites on his ass. Tonight you're careful to do it high enough on his neck to be visible unless he wears a turtleneck. Farther down it might be covered by his tee shirt and you don't want that. Aaron is going to know tomorrow that Glenn is yours. And if he doesn't understand, you'll be happy to explain it to him with your fists. You've come around to Rick's way of dealing with Aaron.

You're close and you can tell Glenn is, too. You reach between and make sure the veins on the underside of your dicks are rubbing together. The feeling of imminent orgasm intensifies. You grunt with relief as climax overtakes you. Glenn makes a sound like a sob and collapses against you. Sex is always good but this is something way beyond ordinary and you want to keep going. You pick Glenn up and toss him on the bed. He knows what you have in mind and scrabbles in the nightstand for the lube you saw him put there earlier. He uncaps it as he turns over and reaches back to hand it to you.

* * *

The next morning you wake up and do it all over again. Glenn has been such a willing participant that you wonder if you've been overthinking the whole thing. A little paranoia has saved your life plenty of times but maybe it wasn't justified this time. In hindsight Aaron's friendliness looks big brotherly. On the other hand …

"What was going on at Aaron's last night?"

Glenn looks guilty and you feel jealousy rise again. The two of you have been together for two years and you trust Glenn but you met after Wildfire started. What if you wouldn't have been his choice if he had a choice?

"I shouldn't say. It's supposed to be a surprise."

It doesn't sound like anything underhanded is going on after all. But you don't want to wait.

"C'mon, tell me. I can act surprised later."

"Deanna hasn't given you a job yet because Aaron has one in mind for you. Eric can't go recruiting with a broken ankle so Aaron wants you to take his place. Maybe permanently. Because Aaron worries about Eric and would rather he was safe here in Alexandria."

You're glad Glenn has never been good at keeping secrets. The kid spilled everything.

"You wouldn't mind if I did it?"

"I think you need it," Glenn replies. "You can't be cooped up behind these walls. Of course I don't want to be apart but I'll be going on supply runs anyway. You want to be out there, too. Just be sure you always come back."

"Same for you."

"Aaron and Eric are inviting us for dinner tonight. They'll ask you then. And there's one other surprise that you have to wait for."  

"Tell me now."

"No. But it's good. You'll love it."

"I only love you."

"Okay, you'll like it a lot. And I love you, too."

* * *

That night over spaghetti you agree to become a recruiter for Alexandria. After supper you're surprised and pleased with the bike in the garage that is half-built or half-torn-apart, depending on whether you're an optimist or a pessimist. You could happily spend hours poking through the parts and putting the bike back together but that can wait until tomorrow. Right now you want to go home with Glenn and confess. He came clean this morning and you have to do the same. Back in the bedroom you clear your throat and get started.

"I … uh … You and Aaron were spending a lot of time together and I might have got a little jealous."

Glenn touches his neck. "Is that why you branded me?"

"I wanted to make sure he knows who you belong to."

"I'm not a possession, Daryl."

"I meant who you belong with."

Glenn scoffs at your feeble attempt: "Good save." Then he gets serious: "I'm glad you care enough to be jealous but I hope you know there was no reason for it. I understand why it happened. We haven't met any good people for awhile, much less another gay couple. But we're a couple, too. No matter what, it's you and me."

"I know. This place is too good to be true and I guess I tried to find something bad about it."

Glenn laughs. "Well, if you had to get bit, I'm glad it was by the green-eyed monster, not a gray-skinned walker."

                                                              

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for RedM who wanted jealous/possessive Daryl to get a little rough with Glenn.


	21. Tarnation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tarnation: expression of confusion or inquiry.
> 
> Merle Dixon hosts a public access TV show.

                                                                                 

Merle, in jeans and a wifebeater under his shirt, sat upright in a recliner in the studio space. A matching chair was empty beside him. Between the two was a small table with a cube refrigerator beneath it.

"I'm Merle Dixon and this here is Tarnation. Rednecks get a lot of grief these days. I'm hoping the abuse keeps getting heaped on so we can become a persecuted group and obtain all kinds of special privileges. Until that happens I'm gonna represent for rednecks in Georgia. I've kept step with these politically correct times and I ain't your typical ignorant, racist, homophobic redneck."

"My very first guest is my brother Daryl. Come on out."

Daryl ambled into view. His brown hair was shaggy and almost clean. His workpants and shirt were decent. The shirt had sleeves.

"Have a seat," Merle invited.

Daryl sat. Both men reclined.

"These are better than our furniture at home," Daryl said. "Why can't we have nice things?"

"You never cared about décor before. Is this a gay thing manifesting?"

"Christ sake, Merle! I didn't know you were going to out me on TV."

"You been out for years."

"Not on TV."

"Shouldn't you be loud and proud instead of ashamed?"

"I ain't ashamed. I'm just not advertising."

"Maybe you should. You might get laid."

"I get laid when I want to."

"You must not want much. Tell you what, I'll help."

"No thanks."

Merle looked at the camera. "You see my brother here. He cleans up pretty well. Hunts with a crossbow. No particular bad habits except that gay thing. I'm gonna put a form on the show's website. It'll be like Tinder but I only got to make one match. Tell me about yourself and include a picture. I'll narrow it down to three and meet with you and you better be queer and your picture better match your face. Serious applicants only. The winner comes on the show to meet Daryl."

"No he won't, I won't be here. I'm done." Daryl got up and left.

"He's not a drama queen usually," Merle explained. "But he don't like surprises. I shouldn't have sprung it on him. Don't worry, I'll talk him around. The offer still stands. It'll be on the website …" Merle called offstage, "When, Glenn?"

Merle turned back to the camera. "I got a Chinese webmaster."

Glenn's voice from offstage: "I'm Korean. From Michigan."

"Whatever. He takes care of the technical shit."

"I'm not putting a form on the website."

"Come out here. You might as well fill in since Daryl run off."

Glenn appeared wearing jeans and a tee shirt.

"Sit. I didn't get a chance to offer Daryl refreshment." Merle pulled a beer can from the little refrigerator. It was hidden in a koozie. He spoke to the camera: "I'm not giving free product placement so you don't get to know my beer brand."

"Do you have soda?" Glenn asked.

"You know I do since you stocked the cube. Help yourself."

Glenn pulled the tab on a soda can also hidden in a koozie and settled back in the recliner.

"What's this about not putting a form on the website? You don't know how?"

"Of course I do. But your brother doesn't want it."

"I hired you to do what I want not what Daryl wants."

"You're not paying me. I volunteered for the experience. I get course credit in my computer and film classes."

Merle scowled. "I'm trying to help my brother and you're denying him an opportunity."

"Okay. Can I apply?"

"What?"

"I'm gay. Daryl is attractive. I didn't expect that from a brother of yours. He seems interesting. I'd like to know him better."

Merle grinned. "Well, my work is done. I set my brother up without leaving my chair. I'll give you his number but it's up to you and him after that. I'm staying out of it."

"I'd appreciate that. The number and you staying out of it."

They sat and drank in silence for a moment.

"These koozies are practically falling apart," Glenn said.

"They were old ones laying around the house."

"You should have koozies made to advertise your show."

Merle looked pleased. "I knew it was a good idea hiring you."

"Hiring implies compensation."

"You're welcome for that course credit."

* * *

"My guest this week is Hershel Greene, retired veterinarian and neighbor. How do, Hershel?"

"I'm well, Merle. I brought a little sipping whiskey."

"Thank you kindly." Merle called offstage, "Glenn, bring some glasses." Glenn appeared with two glasses.

"You can have some, too," Merle offered.

"I'll stick to soda." Glenn poured a generous measure in each glass and disappeared.

"You're a credit to your generation, Hershel. One that thinks a guest shouldn't show up empty-handed."

"My mother instilled that notion."

"I don't remember her."

"She remembered you. She chased you with a carpet slipper."

"That was her? Glad she didn't catch me."

"I have to ask, why is your show called Tarnation?"

"You've heard the expression 'What in tarnation'?"

"I believe that's what my mother said when she saw you in her flowerbeds before chasing you with the slipper."

"I heard that a lot growing up so I thought I'd use it. This show asks the question and answers it."

"Did you know that tarnation is an abbreviated form of 'eternal damnation'?"

"I did not. Guess that fits, too. Hey, that gives me a idea. Glenn!"

Glenn appeared.

"Make a note. When we order the koozies, I want them black with red and orange flames of eternal damnation below Tarnation."

Glenn started to walk away.

"Aren't you gonna write it down?"

"I'll try to remember it for ten seconds until I get back to my desk."

Merle turned his attention back to Hershel. "I got you on here tonight to talk about the new medical marijuana laws in Georgia. I understand you got a prescription."

"That's right. I've got Crohn's Disease."

"Crone? Sounds like an old lady sickness. You inherit it from your mama?"

"It's a different spelling. Crohn's is an inflammatory bowel disease."

"That happens to me after eating Mexican. What makes yours special?"

"Mine is a chronic condition."

"So you get to take 'the chronic' for a chronic condition?"

Hershel chuckled. "I'd rather not have the condition but yes, I suppose you could put it like that."

"Who's your dealer?"

"Right now I have to get it from out of state."

"Well, that's not convenient. I can hook you up."

"Should you be saying that on TV?"

"Maybe I'll get licensed so I can distribute."

"Oh, dear Lord."

"Exactly. Jesus would want me to help suffering folks."

* * *

"With me tonight is Andrea Harrison. She's a lawyer and she heard about last week's show and offered to keep me out of jail, pro bono, if I get into trouble."

"Prison, not jail. And I'd like to get paid but my expectations are realistic."

"I'm not fond of most lawyers but there's things about you I like."

"Do they begin with the letters T and A?"

"Don't be vulgar, Sugar. I like your face and legs, too. And speaking of legs, no need to display your goods to any perverts that may be watching."

"I wouldn't be surprised if no one but perverts are watching."

"Well, how did you find out about my show?"

"From a pervert client."

"What's his name? Might be a friend of mine."

"I'll keep that confidential."

"We got off the subject of your legs. Glenn! Bring out the modesty drape."

Glenn appeared with a throw which he spread over Andrea's lap. It was black with the yellow and orange flames of eternal damnation below 'TARNATION' in red which was below 'What In' much smaller in white. Andrea reclined and Glenn tucked the throw around her ankles but was careful to keep her suede pumps visible.

"That turned out real fine," Merle said admiringly. "It matches the koozies. Every guest leaves with a koozie but you get to keep the throw, too."

"I'm overwhelmed."

"That's the reaction of a lot of folks I meet," Merle said with satisfaction, apparently unaware that it might not be a compliment. "Glenn, order another throw in case I get another female guest in a skirt. And make sure Hershel and Daryl get a koozie."

"I already gave one to Daryl."

"Big spender with your gifts, huh? All right, order an extra throw for you and Daryl to snuggle under. How's it going with my brother, by the way?"

Glenn blushed, remained silent and backed away quickly.

"That good, huh?" Merle turned to Andrea. "He turned awful red, didn't he? I'd call that color Gettin' Some."

"Why am I here? I already agreed to represent you."

"Thought you might like to take a shot at changing folks' attitude to lawyers. You gotta know by now you rank lower than DMV workers."

"People are glad to have us when they need us."

"But they don't love you for it even when you get 'em out of a jam. I know from experience."

"I'm aware. I looked up your record."

"Don't hold that against me. I was young and stupid."

"You're almost forty and your last arrest was a year ago."

"See, this is why folks don't like lawyers. Very judgmental."

Andrea sighed. "You may have a point. Very well, what is your suggestion for improving the image of attorneys?"

"You need to be seen as regular people, not above mixing with us common folk."

"And how do I accomplish that?"

"We could go on a date."

Andrea stared at Merle. She inclined the recliner, tossed aside the throw and stalked offstage.

Merle addressed the camera. "She'll be back."

Andrea marched back to her chair, picked up the throw and a koozie and left again.

"I guess she don't mind being thought stuck-up."

* * *

Tonight's guest is Theodore Douglas. Long time no see, T-Dog."

"My Gran got sick and I been helping her."

"She better now?"

"Not really. Jesus is with her."

"Sorry about that. Was it peaceful?"

"What?"

"Her passing."

"She's not dead."

"You said she's with Jesus."

"Oh, I meant Paul Rovia, that dude everybody calls Jesus. He does home health care. Gran needs somebody professional so he goes in every day."

"Happy to have cleared that up. I asked you here to discuss a business opportunity."

"I could use one. I'm between jobs."

"How about going in together growing pot?"

"No, man, I promised Gran not to do drugs."

"This is medical marijuana. We can get licensed to grow and sell it. In a shop, not on a corner."

"Legal weed?" T-Dog was astounded.

"We live in a great country. Hey, what's wrong with your Gran? She might be able to get a prescription."

* * *

"Here tonight is a member of law enforcement, Sheriff Rick Grimes. Thank you for your service, sir."

Rick looked startled. "Uh … thanks, Merle. I didn't expect … Well, I admit I wasn't sure this was a good idea."

"Then I'm doubly obliged that you showed up."

Rick relaxed.

"Tell me, sheriff, does this count as a check-in with my parole officer? Because I was hoping we could cancel tomorrow morning's meeting."

Rick looked disillusioned. "I suppose so."

"Fair enough. Let's talk about you. You're the sheriff of small-town Benford outside Atlanta. Any family?"

"You know I have a son and a daughter."

"You're a widow man since Lori died when the girl was born."

"Yes. Where is this going?"

"Ever think about a new mama for your kids?"

"What?" Rick looked confused about the turn the conversation had taken.

"I've had some success in matchmaking lately so I took a look at your situation."

"Don't put yourself out on my account. Please don't."

"It's been two years. You date much?"

"No," Rick said uncomfortably. "I'm sure the whole town knows it didn't work out with Jessie and me."

"No surprise there. She was the rebound. Now you can get serious. Anybody in mind?"

"No. And I don't think it's appropriate …"

"What about the black chick?"

Rick looked stunned. "Michonne?"

"That's her name."

"I don't think you want her to know that you called her a black chick."

"Accurate description, ain't it?"

"Technically, but there are other ways to say it."

"She's a fine-looking black woman. Is that better?"

"Yes."

"So, what about you and her?"

"We're friends."

"That's half the deal right there. Just add 'With benefits'."

"I wouldn't want to ruin our friendship with sex."

"You got an odd idea of sex. How'd you get two babies, anyway?"

"This conversation is over." Rick got up and walked away.

"Remember," Merle called after him. "I don't have to check in again until next month."

* * *

With me tonight is Michonne, a fine-looking black woman who speaks softly and carries a big sword."

Michonne looked suspicious. "What are you up to?"

Merle looked innocent. "Helping my fellow man. And woman."

"I don't need help."

"Satisfied with your life, are you? Nothing missing? No need for romance?"

"It's hard to meet people, especially in a small town."

"Have you looked around for an eligible single man?"

"Did you invite me on your show to hit on me?"

"I'm off the market."

"No, you're not."

"She don't know it yet but it'll happen."

"Just because you've got an imaginary relationship doesn't mean you should start fixing people up. You hardly know me."

"I was thinking of the sheriff."

Michonne glowered for a moment. "Has he said anything?"

"He's afraid sex might ruin being friends."

Michonne bit her lip. "But he seemed interested? I thought he liked blondes."

"That tramp is out of the picture. You got a clear field."

"Hmmm."

* * *

"Tonight I'm not so much hosting as babysitting. This here is Judith."

A small girl sat in the guest recliner wrapped in a Tarnation throw.

"Say something for the audience."

"Juice," Judith said obediently.

Merle took an apple juice box from the fridge, unwrapped the straw, stabbed it into the box and handed it to her.

"Intake is followed by output," Merle said. "Are you potty trained?"

"I wear pull-ups."

"Got extras with you?"

Judith nodded. "Daddy gave them to you."

"That's right." Merle picked up a backpack beside his chair. "I guess we're set."

Judith finished her juice and curled up. Her eyes closed.

Merle addressed the camera. "Her daddy and Michonne are on a date. Her brother Carl is fifteen and should be watching her but he's studying for a test, I don't believe. Glenn's not even here to help. Him and Daryl are off somewhere doing God knows what."

Merle was feeling low, abandoned by brother and friends alike. His phone rang. "It's Andrea. She's out of town taking a deposition." He answered the call. "Hey."

"I finished early. I'll be back tonight after all. But it'll be late."

Merle's spirits lifted immediately. "I'll be waiting. Late is the best time for what I got in mind."

He had just clicked off the call when Daryl and Glenn arrived. Glenn was bursting with excitement. Daryl looked happy, too.

"You get engaged or something?"

"Not yet," Daryl said. "When the time comes, you can be my best man."

"But we've got great news for you." Glenn was practically bouncing. "You got nominated for a Hometown Media Award!"

"Say what?"

"It's like an Emmy for community and local cable programs. Tarnation is nominated in the Entertainment & Arts category."

"Is this a insult thing like them Razzies or Screenies?"

"It's a completely legit honor," Glenn assured him.

"How did it happen?"

"I submitted a tape."

"Who do I have to sleep with to win?"

"You'll have a better chance if you don't sleep with anybody," Daryl said.

Judith woke up and whimpered. "She needs changing," Merle said. "That's woman's work." He handed the backpack to Glenn.

"Come here, sweetie," Glenn said, but Daryl scooped her up.

"I'll go with you. I fed Lil Ass Kicker a time or two when she was a baby. Might as well help with the other end this time."

Merle addressed the camera: "To wrap up tonight I'm gonna give you one of my rules for better living: Don't be too nice when you're driving. I don't mean road rage, I'm talking about well-meaning idiots that fuck up traffic. If you got the right of way, take it. Don't sit there motioning other folk to go first. You're screwing up the natural flow for everybody who knows the rules. If you wanna feel all warm and fuzzy and self-righteous, take it off the street and go read to the blind or something. Although they probably don't want you neither. They got books on tape. I'm Merle Dixon and this is Tarnation. Tune in next week."


	22. Domination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domination: to rule or control, superiority.
> 
> Benford, Georgia has a semi-pro football team with familiar people.

Glenn

I have a new job! A second job, actually, in addition to my work at a rehab center in Atlanta. Last week I interviewed with Dr. Hershel Greene. Today he introduced me to Dale Horvath for final approval and now I'm assistant to the team physician for Georgia Domination, a new semi-pro football team. This will give me experience and visibility in sports medicine. I met with the legal counsel to sign a contract and then was passed along to the team publicist who gave me a packet of info to review. I already know from Dale that the small town of Benford gave in to education consolidation so the kids are bused to the big new school a few miles away shared with three other small towns that couldn't support their own schools any longer. Dale bought the town football field and gymnasium and built a team!

Michonne is a freelance writer and sports journalist who handles interviews and media relations. She said the press release is a rough draft that will be finalized and distributed to the league after team colors and mascot are decided. I'm excited to be involved so early in the process.

_Georgia Domination is a semi-professional American football organization located at Benford, Georgia. It was developed by retired businessman Dale Horvath and is managed by him. There are two coaches: Carol Peletier - one of the few female coaches in football - directs defense and Morgan Jones the offense. Jones last coached professionally two years ago but left the position after a personal tragedy resulting in the loss of his wife Jenny and their son Duane._

_Atlanta attorney Andrea Harrison executes contracts and provides legal counsel. Dr. Hershel Greene, retired from general practice, is the team physician with the assistance of physical therapist Glenn Rhee._

My name is already in the materials!

 _Roster of Players:_  
_Rick Grimes, quarterback_  
_Daryl Dixon, right guard_  
_Merle Dixon, right tackle_  
_Theodore Douglas, left guard_  
_Tyreese Williams, left tackle_  
_Abraham Ford, full back_  
_Eugene Porter, center_  
_Gabriel Stokes, wide receiver_  
_Aaron Marquand, running back_  
_Spencer Monroe, tight end_  
_Paul Rovia, wide receiver_  
_Noah Tyler, kicker, punter_  
_Jim Deakins, long snapper, holder_  
_Bob Stookey_  
_Aiden Monroe_  
_Nicholas Traynor_  
_Heath Hawkins_  
_Carter Embry_  
_Tobin Douglas_  
_Scott Green_  
_Bruce Huckabee_  
_Kent Silverman  
_ _David Carroll_

 _Cheer Squad:_  
_Maggie Green_  
_Beth Greene_  
_Sasha Williams_  
_Tara Chambler  
_ _Rosita Espinosa_

I look over the bios so I can put faces to names when I meet them. Everyone has other jobs, including me, since semi-pro is part-time and played for love of the game. It pays very little compared to professional football. I notice that several players live in Atlanta, as I do. Benford is close but since we'll all be going back and forth maybe we can carpool. Andrea and Michonne both live in Atlanta and are friends. Andrea is Dale's personal lawyer so that's how she became counsel for the team and she brought Michonne in as publicist. Everyone seems to know someone else except me. I hope I'll fit in.

Hershel is waiting for me near the field. The first practice is in progress and can't be interrupted so he takes me behind the stands to where the cheer squad is working up their routines.

Maggie and Beth are Hershel's daughters. Maggie keeps house for her father and Beth is nanny to Judith whose father is the quarterback. Sasha is a firefighter and her brother is a player. Rosita designs jewelry and her boyfriend is on the team. Tara just graduated from the police academy. She's a junior officer in the Benford sheriff's department so the quarterback is her boss. A teenage girl is playing with a toddler nearby. Beth introduces Sophia who will babysit Judith during the games and cheer practice. Sophia is Coach Peletier's daughter. Wow, this is a real family organization.

When practice ends Hershel introduces me to the coaches then takes me to the locker room. All the players except one standing at the back turn to look when Hershel calls for their attention. He introduces me as the physical therapist and says we'll come around to meet everyone. The man at the back has pulled off his practice jersey, revealing broad shoulders and the best arms I've ever seen. But his brown hair is long and lank. It's sweaty from being under a helmet but still, I don't think it was washed recently. He's good-looking in a tough, sullen way. Probably straight. Or in the closet. This is redneck Georgia even in these enlightened times.

Hershel starts with the quarterback Rick Grimes. I recall their bios as the players tell me their name and position.

Rick is the sheriff of Benford, a widower with two children. That must be tough for him. Coach Jones is also a widower and Coach Peletier a widow. This team has more than their share of spouse deaths.

Tyreese is ex-NFL, currently a bouncer at a club in Atlanta. Theodore says I can call him T-Dog. He works at the church where Father Gabriel is the priest. Abraham is retired military and does construction. Eugene is an inventor. I wonder if that's a euphemism for unemployed.

Aaron works for a non-profit out of Atlanta. Spencer is the son of Congresswoman Deanna Monroe. No occupation was listed in his bio and I've heard he has a trust fund so he probably doesn't have to work. Paul teaches martial arts and will train the players in moves to evade opponents and block strikes.

Noah attends college part-time, studying architecture. Jim is the only mechanic in Benford. The remaining players are second string and their names run together for me. I'll have to sort them out later. Finally, the only player left is the one who ignored me. He's sitting on a bench, picking at tape around two fingers. Hershel leads me over.

He looks up. Blue eyes, oh my. Maybe I was too quick to judge before. Healthy. Male. Animal. Those are the words that come to mind. I've never thought that particular thing about anyone before but it fits. He's different from anyone I've been attracted to. I tend to meet well-educated urban guys about my age. I'm 26 and he looks like he's closing in on 40. There's something in his eyes as they meet mine. Maybe he is gay. I volunteer to take one for the team! Every double entendre I've ever heard passes through my mind: tight end, wide receiver, backfield in motion, coming from behind, stick it in the end zone, close contact, deep penetration, full sack, pass completed, illegal use of hands, take it deep, holding offense, man on man coverage, split backfield, pounding down the middle, ball's in the air. What a homoerotic game this is.

"Glenn, this is Daryl Dixon."

There are two Dixons, Daryl and Merle, brothers who work for the county department of roads. Maybe he and his brother are twins. Identical twins. Both gay and up for a threesome. Okay, stop now. Daryl nods at me and looks down again. I whip out the small knife I carry for such occasions, slice the tape and unwind it. His hand is firm and warm and rough.

"Where's Merle?" Hershel asks.

"In the can."

"We'll catch him later. Glenn, I need to speak with Dale." Hershel leaves.

Daryl and I are looking at each other. Before it gets awkward, a voice says, "What did I miss?"

I look up to see a big man a few years older than Daryl, several degrees less attractive and almost certainly straight. Not twins. Just as well. I could only handle one of Daryl.

"Merle, this is Glenn Rhee, Hershel's assistant."

"You a Chinese acupuncturist or somethin'?" Merle asks.

"No, I'm a Korean physical therapist. From Michigan originally."

"Whatever. So what are you gonna do around here?"

"Help with exercises to prevent injury or regain function if you get hurt. I also do massage and I'm certified in first aid and CPR."

"I don't want you giving me mouth-to-mouth."

"You'll need to sign a Do Not Resuscitate form."

"Oh, I wanna be resuscitated but I want that Andrea Harrison to do it."

"You have good taste." Merle looks pleased at the compliment. I follow up with, "But what if she has good taste?"

Merle frowns. "Did I just get insulted?"

"If you have to ask," Daryl replies, "The answer is yes."

Daryl strips and heads to the shower. I'm careful not to stare but I have excellent peripheral vision. His butt and legs are as good as his shoulders and arms. His practice jersey is on the bench. Daryl is #10, an appropriate number although I'd rate him even higher on a scale of ten. I thought of another measurement but ten inches would be completely excessive and not doable. From the glimpse I got he's at least six inches and he wasn't fully aroused. More than adequate or even necessary.

This preliminary practice was more of a warm-up and no one needs my help so I take another look at the remodeled gym. Hershel showed me around during my first interview and I was impressed. It's not as fancy as an NFL locker area but Dale put some serious money into it. There are workout machines, a whirlpool, cold and hot baths, and two tables for massage.

A teenage boy is checking the machines and cupboards. I introduce myself and learn that Carl is the team assistant. He's in charge of water and energy drinks on the sidelines, stocking supplies and locker room laundry. Rick is his father and Judith is his sister. The entire Grimes family is with the team.

Daryl

This practice was mostly drills for the coaches to observe players and get an idea of skills and conditioning. There would be a meeting in a little while to decide colors and mascot. Daryl was taking off his jersey when Hershel came into the locker room to introduce the physical therapist. Daryl glanced over his shoulder. Looked like an Asian kid although he was probably mid-twenties.

Daryl straddled the bench, unwinding tape from fingers and wrists. He hadn't taped in high school but that was twenty years ago and he figured a little extra support wouldn't hurt especially since he hadn't played regularly in the past ten years. Unwinding tape didn't occupy his mind so he let it dwell on other matters. He'd been out in Benford for fifteen years and nobody gave a damn anymore. There'd been some talk at first but not much because Merle in his half-assed way had supported his brother and that had defused the situation. Daryl had never been with anyone from the Benford area, mostly because nobody else was gay or if they were they weren't going public. He hadn't been with many guys out of town either but there were a couple of places he went in Atlanta if he felt an itch his own hand couldn't scratch. That's how he met Aaron and Eric who had been a couple for several years. When this semi-pro team became reality, Aaron wanted in. Daryl had become friends with Aaron and Eric but they weren't much like him. Daryl tended to find loners like himself, not ashamed of being gay but quiet about it. As the years passed Daryl was a little envious of Aaron and Eric's relationship and less satisfied with his occasional hook-ups. Might be nice to have someone around, not just for sex, like being married. Although marriage was possible now. He shied away from the word but not the meaning behind it. The Dixon brothers weren't marriage material with women or men.

Daryl was comfortable in locker rooms with other men in a state of undress and they were comfortable with him. Most guys got a boner at some time or other. All that testosterone and adrenaline. The other players except Aaron were straight and a few were good-looking but he wasn't interested in them sexually. No sparkage. He wasn't shallow enough to only go for a pretty face and chiseled body.

Hershel was making the rounds with the kid. At second glance, maybe Daryl was shallow enough to go for a pretty face and chiseled body. Naw, this kid was a kind of medical professional. Different worlds. Probably not gay anyway. City boy straight. Were they still called metrosexual? But when they were introduced a few minutes later there was some sparkage. Glenn Rhee even held his own with Merle. Daryl took the opportunity to peel off his practice pants in front of Glenn before going to shower.

Glenn

Dale starts the meeting with a rule: No alcohol, tobacco or drugs on the premises except when the concession stand sells beer on game days.

"What you do on your own time is your business and maybe Sheriff Grimes but I'm running a clean club here."

"It's the coaches' business, too," Morgan puts in.

"We'd advise cutting out drinking and smoking while you're in training," Carol adds.

"Cutting out?" There are protests from some players, only half in jest.

"All right, cutting down," Carol allows.

"Cutting out comes later, from the team, if you're drunk or don't have the wind to play a whole game." Morgan sounds serious but not mean.

"Weed doesn't count, does it?"

I'm not surprised to hear Merle's voice.

"You know it's a drug, Merle. And illegal." Rick sounds like he's had this conversation before. "Carl and Sophia will be around here."

Carl looks as if he'd rather his dad didn't mention him.

"Fifteen is a good age to start toking. Build up a resistance before college," Merle announces.

"Are you serious?" I wasn't going to speak since I just got hired on but I can't let that pass.

"Yep. Kids are likely to flunk out if they don't get high until college."

"How about if they don't get high at all?" I hope Daryl doesn't think I'm a prude.

"Never occurred to me. Expecting kids not to try weed is like preaching abstinence. If your goal is less clap and babies, condoms will give you more bang for your buck."

"That analogy doesn't make sense." Why am I arguing? I can't win and Daryl may not like me challenging his brother.

Dale breaks in: "No drugs on the premises, Merle. That's final and no exceptions. The kids will have to illegally obtain marijuana on their own."

I catch Merle winking at Carl. I'm not sure if Merle said all that to be funny and is sharing the joke with Carl or if he's Carl's dealer.

"Let's have some ideas about a mascot." Dale gets down to the real reason for the meeting.

Abraham: "A superhero!"

Eugene: "Or one of the X-Men."

It sounds like those two may have discussed it already.

"Copyright infringement." Andrea sits with legs crossed, swiping and typing on the tablet balanced on her knee. She appeared to be paying no attention but her voice cuts through the excitement. She looks up at the sudden silence. "Can't use anything already licensed."

"What about them conventions with everybody dressed up?" Merle asks.

"The Supreme Court will be deciding that. Let's not get involved." Andrea smiles like a beautiful barracuda. "Don't fuck with Marvel, DC Comics, Disney, anyone like that. I don't have the time and you don't have the money."

"There are several saints who were known for their skill in battle," Father Gabriel suggests.

The room is quiet. Doesn't sound like anyone wants a religious symbol for a mascot.

Father Gabriel goes on with the lesson for the day: "For example, Moses the Black, not to be confused with Moses of the old testament. Moses the Black was a slave in Egypt who became leader of a gang of bandits who spread terror and violence throughout the Nile Valley."

"Hell yes!" T-Dog, Tyreese, Noah, Bob and Heath. The black players are now on board but I didn't hear Michonne or Sasha.

"Joan of Arc!" There's Sasha. Apparently gender trumps color in this fight. The rest of the cheer squad backs her up.

I'm surprised Paul doesn't bring up Jesus, which is his nickname. Why not skip the saints and go to the top?

Michonne speaks up. "What do we want the team to represent? Let's decide that and then we can choose something to represent the team. What does 'Domination' mean to us?"

The general consensus is that everyone thought the name sounded cool. They didn't take it any further.

"How about an animal?" Rick asks.

"Stay away from anything already used in the professional or semi-pro leagues," Andrea advises.

"Right," Michonne agrees. "Let's build our own brand."

"What's left?"

"Cockroaches and zombies," Merle says in disgust.

"A zombie might be fun," Paul says.

So 'Jesus' is in favor of resurrection of the dead.

"It's different for sure," Nicholas adds.

"But how would it work?" Spencer asks.

"Hold on," Michonne interrupts. "Is a rotting corpse the image we want fans to have of us?"

The players appear to be thinking that over. Then Daryl's voice: "Not us, the other team. A zombie in the other team's jersey. And we dominate them."

Everyone trades glances, seeing the possibilities. Our mascot would be a way to mock our opponents.

"Not that we're going to lose," I interject. "But in the unlikely event, we could be good sports and let the mascot bite our players as they come off the field."

Everyone likes it. We all look at Andrea.

"Bizarre." She shrugs. "But not illegal. Go for it."

Dale asks who will be the mascot and several people look at Carl who shakes his head. "I'm the waterboy. I don't want to take that on."

Aaron offers up his boyfriend. "Eric might do it. He'll be at the games anyway. He took theatre in college. He likes performing and knows how to do make-up."

Andrea has been texting. "Can my sister Amy join the squad? She cheered in college. She just graduated and she misses it."

Maggie says that will be perfect. With six they can make a pyramid and leave the mascot free to put on a show.

Everyone has a different suggestion for team colors but the players insist on dark pants. The new breathable fabric is so revealing that in light colors, especially white, you can tell if a player is wearing a jock strap or not. I don't think that's a bad thing but I don't say so. It becomes clear there will be no unanimous agreement on a color so everyone settles on plain black with white numbers and accents. I like it. It's simple, it fits our name and it won't clash with any color our opponents wear. Or our mascot. I'll invert the colors for my uniform and wear white track suits with black trim and white tee shirts.

Daryl

After the meeting Daryl waited for Merle who wanted to ask a made-up question about his contract as an excuse to talk to Andrea. She and Michonne were talking with Rick and Daryl couldn't help overhearing. Rick thinks Sophia is sweet and serious but she's 15 and he's worried about her watching Judith during the games. He's afraid she might get bored not being able to run around with her friends. Rick is over-protective but who can blame him? Lori died when little Judy was born and he's been a single dad for three years.

"They can sit in the box with me," Michonne offers. "That'll keep Sophia from getting distracted."

"I'll be in the box, too," Andrea adds. "I'll take Judith during half-time so Sophia can have a break."

"You will?" Rick seems surprised by a maternal side of Andrea.

"Relax, 'Dad'. I don't mind kids. I might have one eventually." Andrea sounds as if she means it. "Have to find the right baby daddy."

Daryl hoped Merle heard that. It should dampen his crush on Andrea. The Dixon brothers were no more daddy material than marriage material.

"Good night, Daryl."

Glenn's voice broke in on Daryl's thoughts. He was leaving the gym. Daryl upnodded and said, "Night." He watched the kid walk away. Something happening, he thought. He smiled slightly at the idea just as Glenn glanced back. Busted! Glenn gave a small smile of his own as he went out the door.

Glenn

The team already does general exercises to stretch and warm up but after the next few practices I meet with each player to promote a personal program. Ages range from 20 to 42. Knees, arms, shoulders – older players often have a trouble spot that's been hurt in the past and younger players want to protect themselves from damage.

I keep it professional when Daryl and I meet because this is my job and I want him to know I take it seriously. No smiles or flirting but there's a frisson beneath the surface anyway. Daryl tells me he's lucky not to have any particular problems and he'd like to keep it that way so he'll do what I recommend, which is a basic conditioning routine. He's in great shape but he admits he drinks and smokes upon occasion. It hasn't caught up with him yet and if it's not to excess it probably won't. I don't suggest he stop – I'm not his mother or his coach.

The team is pretty evenly divided between those who gravitate to Hershel for massage and treatment and those who come to me. The locals, many of whom have doctored with Hershel, favor him as I expected they would, but no one is unwilling to switch if one of us is busy.

I watch the practices, not only to be on hand in case of injury, but to learn how the team works together. Rick is a natural leader. His authority as the sheriff makes him an excellent quarterback on the field. T-Dog is muscular and looks mean but isn't. Daryl is solid and determined. They both respect Rick and guard him well. Tyreese's professional career sets him apart and the others, including Rick, depend on his calm presence.

In the past Merle fought the law a few times and the law won but the game means more to him than any lingering resentment of the sheriff. Eugene's Tennessee twang and lack of facial expression make him seem simple but he's deeper than he looks or sounds. As center, he hands off the ball and is on the offensive line. He doesn't look mean or determined. He runs awkwardly and throws like a girl but when he plants himself on the line of scrimmage, he's immovable.

Abraham is big and reliable. He knows his job and does it well. Aaron is more compact but quick and observant. Spencer is handsome and privileged but he's becoming a better player than I expected. Father Gabriel has been away from the game for awhile but his skills improve daily. Paul is quicksilver on the field, playful and taunting. He's going to rile our opponents and keep them off balance. So will Father Gabriel who has a tendency to quote scripture before each play.

Noah is special teams, not built for offense or defense but he's got that golden leg for kicking. Jim is also special teams, not great at many positions but useful for certain plays. The second string is coming along. They're strong enough for the starters to get a good workout against them and several are ready to step up when needed. Sometimes the coaches split the strings so the starters aren't always together and the teams are more evenly matched.

I don't know what our competition will be like yet but to me we look ready for anything.

Daryl

Daryl got his rubdowns from Hershel after the first few practices. Doc Greene had delivered the Dixon brothers and attended their folks' deaths. It would feel disloyal to purposely go to Glenn although Hershel wouldn't mind. There were plenty of players to keep both of them busy. Still, if there was another way …

Daryl emerged from the shower to find Hershel working on T-Dog.

"I'll be awhile," Hershel said. "But Glenn just finished with Eugene."

Daryl nodded and lay down on Glenn's table with his face in the oval cut-out. He heard Glenn apply oil to his hands and rub them together before starting on his neck and shoulders. The kid's technique was good, his hands were strong and the thumbs dug into deep tissue. Daryl relaxed but not to the point of almost falling asleep as he sometimes did with Hershel. He was too aware of Glenn for that to happen. Glenn did each arm before moving down his back. He skipped over the towel covering Daryl's ass and went on to his legs. He was taking his time.

Hershel finished with T-Dog, got his table ready for the next practice and said goodnight to Daryl, Glenn and Carl. Carl was waiting for a load of towels to dry.

"We're almost done here," Glenn said to Carl. "I'll finish up. You go on home."

"You sure? It won't be long now."

"I'll help fold," Daryl said. "Your daddy'll have supper waiting." Rick was always the first one out so he could get Judith home, fed and in bed.

Glenn reached under the towel and kneaded Daryl's glutes for a minute after Carl left. Then he went to lock the door. When he came back, Daryl had turned on his back. The towel tented over his dick. Glenn tossed the towel away and bent over. After a few seconds Daryl moaned and pulled Glenn's head up.

"Appreciate the thought but not this time. Get up here."

Glenn looked doubtful. "The table is narrow. We might fall off."

"But what a way to go. Or come."

Glenn grinned, stripped and swung his leg over Daryl who lifted him astride. They were both hard. Glenn leaned forward until they were chest to chest with dicks pressed between them.

Afterward neither wanted to move yet. Glenn wasn't very heavy and Daryl liked his weight on him anyway.

"You stayed in the shower until Hershel was busy and I wasn't and most of the team was gone. Do you think Hershel was fooled?"

"Nope. Neither was Carl."

"Your truck and my car are outside. The whole team will probably know by morning."

"The team will know by midnight. The whole town will know by morning."

"Do you mind?"

"Benford is small. I would've moved long ago if I minded everybody knowing my business."

Glenn

There are some looks and a little 'nudge, nudge, wink, wink' from the team at the next practice but it's good-natured and no more than they would do to straight teammates. It's not like I'm a coach that will let Daryl play more because I'm sleeping with him. He's likely to get longer massages from me but that will be in private.

* * *

Before the first game Hershel and I help with taping and give brief rubdowns to loosen up the players. The team looks imposing and dangerous in the new black uniforms and helmets but the cheer squad looks cute. In their short pleated skirts and tight crop tops, the girls are fully worthy of being sexually objectified. They're performing pregame routines with Eric stumbling around them in an opponent's jersey. He did a terrific job with the zombie makeup. The girls pretend to trip Eric and kick him and he goes sprawling. The crowd seems to get it and appreciate the show. Merle volunteered to acquire the other team's jersey. Team apparel is available for sale but I wouldn't be surprised if he stole it out of their locker room.

The stands are full. It looks like the whole town of Benford showed up along with people from the places where everyone works. There are a few from the rehab center and I'm not even a player. Ten guys from the department of roads are here to support Daryl and Merle. They painted their chests with letters and are sitting in a row: DOMINATOIN. I say hello and suggest that the last O and I trade places.

Michonne, Andrea, Sophia and Judith are in the box with Dale. He looks happy and proud. He and his wife were going to travel around in an RV after he retired but Irma died suddenly and Dale didn't have the heart to go by himself. He found a new dream instead. His dream has become the team's dream and they don't want to let him or themselves down. These are guys who played in high school or college or occasional pick-up games. Not good enough for major league, except Tyreese, but they love football and the chance to play at this level means a lot to them.

" _1_ _st_ _Corinthians 15:57. Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."_

Our first game is against the Atlanta Local Quarry Workers Union and it starts poorly. Their offensive line is surprisingly strong and Jim gets hurt early on. But they can't follow through. We fight back and overpower them, winning our first game! The only casualty is Jim who says he won't play again. He offers to keep our bus and van running as his contribution but his football days are done.

Dale hosts a big party afterward and later Daryl comes to Atlanta to celebrate. We haven't done it in the gym since that first time. We go to Daryl's house if Merle isn't around. If he is, we go to my place. We haven't stayed over with each other yet but I hope that changes tonight. The sex is the best I've ever had but I don't want that to be all we have.

Daryl

It felt like marking a change in their relationship when Daryl stayed over with Glenn. So far it had been mostly sex. Daryl wasn't opposed to more but they both had day jobs and practices were on weekday evenings so there was work the next morning. Now that they were playing actual games, there would be fewer practices plus they'd see each other every Saturday.

Daryl was surprised how heated it still was between them. In his admittedly limited experience the first sexual frenzy burned out pretty quick and then you realized you didn't have much in common with this guy you were fucking and you started backing away and pretty soon it was over. The first frenzy was settling down to a steady flame that showed no sign of flickering out and he was looking forward to spending more time with this kid who already took up a good portion of his thoughts.

Glenn

Our second game with the CDC is cancelled at the last minute. There's an outbreak somewhere and everyone is needed in the labs. The facility is locked down until the current crisis is handled. We had already learned from the league that this isn't unusual. The CDC misses a lot of games. Daryl and I spend the whole weekend together.

* * *

" _Psalm 18:39. You have girded us with strength for battle; You have subdued under us those who rose up against us."_

The Junk Yard Dogs come down from Philadelphia. Dave at quarterback, Tony guarding and Randall as running back are the only real threats. Rick blitzes Dave and the rest of the team crumbles.

Tragedy overshadows our second win when Dale dies unexpectedly during the night. We're worried about what his death means for Georgia Domination. Andrea meets with us to explain that Dale set up a trust fund for the team in the event of his death. It will be administered by her and three other trustees who are currently the coaches and Hershel. There are rules in place for naming new trustees as necessary and for dissolving the trust if the team doesn't want to continue.

Everyone wants to keep going for themselves and to honor Dale who made it all possible. Andrea is near tears and I feel bad that I didn't give more thought to how she must feel. Dale has been a client and friend of hers for years. The rest of us liked and respected him but he lived in Atlanta and we only met him when he bought the property in Benford and built this team. Merle steps up and pats her shoulder and she turns to him. I'm glad that one of us showed appropriate sympathy but I suspect Merle may have an ulterior motive.

Dale will be cremated and his ashes buried on the 50 yard line of the football field. There will be a plaque to mark the spot. Jim asks to be the one to dig the hole for his urn. He feels bad about leaving the team but Dale never held it against him. It wasn't that Jim was afraid of getting hurt again. He knew he wasn't an experienced player and he didn't want to hold the team back.

* * *

The memorial service for Dale takes place at the field on the following Saturday before we leave for our next game. The stands are full of people from Benford and Atlanta. The team and cheer squad are in uniform and the players stand with helmets under their arms except Father Gabriel who officiates. I think we're all relieved not to be playing a home game this week so we don't immediately start trampling over Dale's final resting place.

" _Luke 10:19. Behold, I have given you authority to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy, and nothing will injure you."_

We go on the road to play the Guardians of the West Georgia Correctional Facility. Their games are always at home because the warden doesn't want so many guards away at the same time in case of rioting. There's been a lot of unrest at the prison lately. Plus, two trusties – Axel and Oscar – are allowed to play and prisoners can't leave the grounds. They give us a good game but it's not much more than a hard work-out to win.

Daryl and I aren't the only two who met through Georgia Domination. Sasha and Bob have started spending time together. Abraham and Rosita are a couple but they met way before the team was organized.

* * *

" _Deuteronomy 28:7. The Lord will cause our enemies who rise against us to be defeated before us. They shall come out against us one way and flee before us seven ways."_

Our first real battle is against the Woodbury Warriors. Milton Mamet manages and Philip Blake coaches. The quarterback Caesar Martinez is the best player but the whole team is strong. We have a tough time keeping them from scoring but they keep us from scoring, too. The game ends 0-0 so we go into overtime and just barely manage to kick a field goal for the win.

* * *

" _Psalm 138:7. Though we walk in the midst of trouble, You will revive us; You will stretch forth Your hand against the wrath of our enemies, and Your right hand will save us."_

Rick calls a sneaky first play against Claimer's Salvage Savages and their quarterback Joe holds a grudge, leaving Daryl hard-pressed to protect his quarterback the rest of the game until a final brutal play by Rick wins it. The Savages were mean but not so smart, except Joe, and he let revenge get the best of him.

* * *

" _2_ _nd_ _Corinthians 10:4. For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds."_

The Terminus Café Cannibals are managed by Mary and coached by her son Gareth. I guess the idea is that they eat their opposition. The tables are turned on us and they dominate, shutting down every defense until late in the game Carol comes up with an offense that wins the day.

Word goes around that Sasha and Bob are just friends and no hard feelings. I'm sorry it didn't work out for them but happy that it's working just fine for Daryl and me.

* * *

" _Isaiah 8:10. Devise a plan, but it will be thwarted; State a proposal, but it will not stand, for God is with us."_

Grady Memorial Hospital ends in a stand-off. Neither side scores during sudden-death overtime and both teams agree to a tie. They wouldn't have done so well but the police officers assigned to provide security for the hospital are allowed to play on their team and those people take winning so seriously that they're not even having fun. The only reason they agreed to the tie is that a couple of their players got hurt and they didn't want to chance a loss on their record.

Our team is lucky to have had no lasting injuries so far. There have been the usual sprains and strains, pulled ligaments and tendinitis. A few players have sat out a game but there's been nothing major enough to put a player out for the season.

* * *

Daryl

Life was finally coming together for the Dixons. The past fifteen years blurred, each one pretty much like the one before. Not a bad life but not very memorable. Daryl and Merle had always lived together and worked together. That's what family meant to them. It had been good but limiting without even realizing it. Then everything changed a few months ago. The brothers had friends and were liked in Benford and at work but becoming part of the team was something bigger. Daryl remembered wishing for something more after that first practice. Maybe it had been a premonition because five minutes later he met Glenn and that meant more than anything else. Daryl suspected that meeting Andrea meant a lot to Merle, too. He was sure that at first Merle had just wanted to prove he could get the girl. Now Daryl thought Merle wanted to keep the girl. Daryl no longer had worries about his own future but he was uneasy about Merle's unlikely pairing.

Glenn

" _Psalm 44:5. Through You we will push back our adversaries; Through Your name we will trample down those who rise up against us."_

We travel to Alexandria, Virginia to play the Wolves. Morgan's offensive strategy can't overcome them but Carol's interception defense leads to their annihilation.

It's definitely more than just sex between Daryl and me. This is serious and we both know it. We're making plans for when the season is over. Semi-pro football is played in the spring instead of the fall so our season is March through May. This summer we'll go to Michigan to visit my family. They can come to Georgia in the winter.

While our relationship has been building, others have been ebbing and flowing. Abraham has been sniffing around Sasha in spite of living with Rosita for a year. Sasha didn't encourage him but he left Rosita anyway and pursued Sasha and she's showing signs of surrender. Rosita is sleeping with Spencer now. He seems smitten but I think it's retaliation on her part. So far everyone is keeping it professional on the team and the cheer squad.

Rick and Michonne getting together is more of a surprise to them than anyone else. Even Carl expected it. They've been friends since the beginning but both have baggage from previous marriages. I think it happened so gradually they didn't realize how much they depend on each other.

Merle and Andrea are a surprise to everyone but Daryl and me. We've suspected for awhile but couldn't quite believe it. Daryl thought it would be over when Andrea told Merle she wanted to get married and pregnant in the next couple of years. But Merle just said they should name the kid after Dale. Andrea almost ovulated on the spot. How could Merle be cunning enough to know the right thing to say to a woman like Andrea?

* * *

" _Ephesians 6:11. Put on the whole armor of God, that we may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil."_

Our final game of the season is against a team called the Saviors which is an arrogant, presumptuous and sacrilegious name. They don't represent an organization, only themselves. They've got a tough rep but no one knows much about them since they're also new to the league. Managed, coached and quarterbacked by a guy called Negan.

We do all right the first quarter. Neither side scores but there's a good play by Daryl who blows up their offensive line. A wiry guy named Dwight takes this personally and spends the second quarter dogging Daryl and blocking his moves. Negan hasn't played yet and in a discussion during half-time the team decides he must not really be a player. He coaches and likes to front that he's also the quarterback. We fight back in the third quarter with what looks like a good ambush play but they turn on us and we have to scramble to recover lost ground. Everything goes to hell in the fourth quarter. Negan didn't put himself or his best players in until the end. All along we were barely surviving against the second string and didn't even know it. The Saviors destroy us, scoring just before the clock runs out. Our players leave the field in defeat. For the first time Eric has to chase them, lurching and biting in victory. Not as funny as it sounded when I suggested it so many months ago.

In the locker room, everyone is demoralized. Hershel and I move among them, unwinding tape and passing out cold packs, giving a quick rub-down to a few shoulders we know are trouble spots.

Carol and Morgan pull it together and address the players, talking in turns:

"This is our fault. We didn't have good strategy. Rick had to practically run the game on his own. He came up with some brilliant plays but in the end, they were just better than us. That's going to change next season. We let you down but it won't happen again."

Their assessment is correct about the game and themselves. Nothing they tried worked and they struggled to keep up, leaving Rick desperate and willing to try anything. The coaches go on to say that they're switching places. Carol will take offense and Morgan defense. This makes sense. Why didn't they think of it before? They weren't using their strengths. Carol is good at defense but attacking is more natural for her and Morgan is best at preventing scoring and stopping yardage gains. I've noticed occasional tension between them but that's to be expected when coaching different strategies and styles. They were always professional and we were winning. But now, for the first time, I see them really united. The tone of the talk changes and they continue:

"We've had an incredible season: 7-1-1 our first time out is phenomenal. We know what we're up against now and next year it will be 9-0!"

Spirits are rising. The players start undressing and heading to the showers. Carol and Morgan leave to talk with Eric and the girls. The cheer squad's enthusiasm never flagged during the game but they'll be in need of some cheering up now, too.

The tables are ready for Hershel and me to massage any players who want it. Some will sit in the whirlpool first, some like a rub-down first and then a soak.

I lean over and whisper to Daryl, "I have to help the other guys now but remember I'll be taking care of you forever."

Daryl

Daryl had expected Glenn to say he'd be taking care of him all night. Forever was a nice word. He wondered if that meant marriage eventually. Daryl didn't need the paperwork but if Glenn wanted it, he'd go along. After all, Andrea thought Merle was marriage material and Daryl couldn't be worse.

Andrea also thought Merle was father material. What if Glenn wanted to adopt someday? Or what if he wanted one of them to provide the raw materials! They'd need a surrogate. Daryl cringed at the idea of sperm cups and test tubes but the old-fashioned way was just as distasteful.

He was borrowing trouble thinking so far ahead. He hadn't even met his in-laws yet.

                                                                                                        


	23. Commotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commotion: excitement, upheaval.
> 
> Daryl and Glenn meet in distressing circumstances.

Glenn

I'm driving down Main Street in the dark, looking for the Greene Veterinary Clinic. This might be the only street because Benford looks like a very small town. It must be if there's not even a pizza joint and they have to order delivery from nearby Atlanta.

I think I just passed the vet clinic. It's closed but there was a light in the back. Good thing there's no traffic, I can U-turn in the middle of the street. Here's the Benford Bar & Grill all lit up and noisy. Must not serve pizza. Maybe just beer and wings.

What's that? Something ran into the street! I'm going slow and don't feel a thud but I brake and jump out of my car.

Oh, Jesus! A dog is lying on its side not moving. In the light from my headlamps I can see that it's small, maybe 20 pounds, dark and scruffy looking. Did I kill a poor stray or someone's beloved pet?

One eye opens and looks at me pitifully. Still alive! I pat it gently and don't feel any blood but I don't want to move it. The vet clinic is only a block away. I take off my jacket and lay it over the little dog. "Hang on, buddy. You'll be okay." I take off running.

The door is locked. Shouldn't it be open if they were expecting pizza? I pound and shout and a man appears from the back. He opens the door and I have a moment to think this is not how I would have chosen to meet a hot animal doctor.

"Please help! I need a vet!"

"I'm not the vet, I'll call Doc Greene."

"Please hurry!"

Hot Guy pulls out his phone.

I'm babbling but I can't stop trying to explain: "A dog just ran into the street. I didn't even feel a hit but it's lying there …" My voice trails off as Hot Guy puts his phone away. "What are you doing?!"

"Let's take a look."

Hot Guy heads up the block to my car. What's going on? Why isn't he helping?

The dog isn't moving and its eyes are closed. We're too late.

"Nice doggy."

Hot Guy's words are friendly but his tone is stern. The dog doesn't move. I'm changing Hot Guy to Heartless.

"Nice doggy!" Heartless says loudly.

The dog's ears twitch and his tail at the edge of my jacket thumps. His eyes open and he yawns! Did he go to sleep?

Heartless picks up my jacket and hands it to me. "Sorry about this. The dog's fine." The dog gets up and gives itself a shake.

"What the fuck?" I'm angry. I just got the meanest punk ever from a dog!

"The dog learned a bad trick from his owner." Heartless hesitates. "Uh, I'm Daryl Dixon."

"Glenn Rhee." I'm glad to have a real name instead of Hot Guy or Heartless but I'm still angry. "Who is the owner?" I demand furiously.

A big man with buzzed hair emerges from the Benford Bar & Grill and spies the pizza sign on my car.

"You made it. Pay the man, Daryl. I ordered pizza for us. What are you all doing out here? I gave the vet clinic address."

"This is my brother Merle."

The dog trots over and jumps up against Merle's leg. "How's it going, Nice Doggy?"

"No! Not Nice Doggy! Bad Doggy!" I'm still furious. "Is this your dog?"

"Yep." Merle takes in the scene. "Uh oh. Did Nice play dead?"

"Playing dead is a cute trick when everyone knows what's happening. Nice Doggy played accident victim. I thought I hurt an innocent animal!"

"There oughta be Animal Oscars," Merle says.

"This is unacceptable. I'm suing you!"

"Hold up, there's no harm done."

"Except my emotional distress. I deserve a settlement for pain and suffering and I know a good attorney."

"Dial it down. Shouldn't a Chinese be Zen about stuff like this?"

"I'm Korean. And I'm adding racism to my lawsuit."

Merle looks at his dog. "Bad choice, Nice. You picked a Kim Jong type instead of a Zen Buddhist."

"My family is from South Korea not North Korea." I take a breath. "Actually from Michigan now. I need some information for my attorney."

Merle finally looks alarmed. Daryl intervenes. "Wait a minute." He pulls out his wallet. "How much for the pizza?"

"Forty dollars including delivery. And I would expect a good tip."

Daryl peels off three twenties.

"I don't want your money, I want his." I glare at Merle. "He ordered the pizza and you didn't even know about it."

Merle pulls out his wallet. A twenty, two tens and three ones. I just lost seventeen dollars in tip.

I hand over two boxes from the insulated bag. "I hope it's cold. You'll be hearing from my attorney."

"Come back to the clinic and have some pizza," Daryl says. "Let's talk about this."

"Yeah, you need to eat somethin'," Merle adds. "Probably low blood sugar is making you cranky."

"All right." Merle needs to learn a lesson but it's Daryl I want to spend more time with.

By the time I turn my car and park in front of the clinic, the Dixon brothers and the dog are at the door. We go to a small room with a desk, a table and chairs. Merle has a six-pack of beer. I'm driving on the job so I ask if there's any soda and Daryl brings a bottle from a small fridge in the corner.

As we eat I realize there are no sounds of animals, no barks or meows.

"No sick or injured pets right now? Was Nice Doggy drumming up business?" I ask snarkily. Nice Doggy is scarfing down two pieces of pizza from a bowl on the floor.

"It's a large animal practice," Daryl explains. "Doc Greene goes out to the farms for horses, cows, pigs. He sees small domestics in an emergency but most folks go to that big pet place on the outskirts of Atlanta."

"Is that where you take Nice Doggy?" I ask Merle. "Are his shots up-to-date? I don't see a collar with a rabies tag."

"It's at home. Nice don't like a collar. Everybody around here knows him."

"My attorney may need to verify a current rabies vaccination even though I wasn't attacked."

Merle sighs. "Are you really gonna be a hard-ass about it? And what's with this attorney shit? Can't you just say lawyer like a regular person?"

"My lawyer prefers to be called attorney."

"He sounds like a dick. I mean penis."

"My attorney is a woman."

"She sounds like a cunt. I mean vagina."

"You're not helping your case." Actually I have to keep myself from laughing. Merle is crude but clever.

Daryl takes over: "What are you expecting to get here? You've seen my brother's wallet and clothes. You can see our house if you want to. There's no money."

"He didn't even apologize. You said sorry right away but Merle didn't."

"Is that all that's biting your ass? Well, I'm sorry as can be."

"About what? Be specific."

"Sorry that you can't take a joke."

I turn to Daryl. "See? He's not sorry."

"Merle, make this go away."

"Aw hell. I apologize for the actions of my dog that caused you grief. Nice, go and shake on it."

Nice Doggy sits in front of me and offers a paw. Great, now I'll be the asshole if I don't accept. I shake Nice's paw. He licks my hand before trotting back to Merle.

"Thank you. I withdraw my lawsuit. I suppose this will be funny in the morning."

"Course it will," Merle says. "You got a good story to tell."

We dig into the pizza again. "So what do you guys do around here?"

"I work for Doc Greene," Daryl says. "Stocking his supplies here in town and out at his farm. Make the rounds with him, help pull calves, stuff like that. He's getting up there and not as strong as he used to be."

Daryl is built like a brick shithouse. I imagine him taking off his shirt and lathering up his arms when working with those big farm animals.

I turn to Merle. "And you?"

"I work for Hershel, too. Farm hand. Fencing, feeding, gardening, chopping firewood. Whatever needs doing. What about you? Starting at the bottom of the food service industry? Hoping to work your way up?"

"It's part-time while I'm in college. I'll graduate in June."

"What are you studying?" Daryl asks.

"I'm a psych major."

"Psychology." Daryl sounds suspicious.

"Were you messing with me before?" Merle demands. "About suing?"

"Maybe." I'm a little ashamed of how far I took it.

"I oughta counter-sue," Merle says. "Does your lawyer do pro-bono? I mean attorney."

We all laugh.

"I'm going on to grad school. I want to get my master's and probably my doctorate eventually."

"Couldn't you get a job that pays more than pizza delivery?" Merle doesn't mind asking insulting questions.

"Yes, but nothing that provides more experience with the whole spectrum of humanity. I meet all kinds of people. Present company included."

"How'd you decide to study psychology?" Daryl asks.

"When I realized I was gay it made me think a lot about myself and others and I got interested in exploring the mind …" I stop because Daryl is flushed and Merle is grinning. Oh no, does this mean that Daryl is also …? Wait, why 'Oh no'? I should be thinking 'Oh yes' because I already find him attractive and interesting. Maybe it's mutual.

"Daryl, how come being queer didn't make you think about being a doctor and making big bucks?" Merle looks at me. "Guess he was thinking with his dick instead of his brain."

I ask Daryl, "Are you out?"

"You kidding? I couldn't be anything else with big-mouth Merle for a brother."

"He's sensitive," Merle explains. "That's how I knew he was one of you."

"One of 'us'? No, that's not how you know someone is gay. Many sensitive people are straight. And everyone is sensitive about something."

"I'm not," Merle denies.

"Almost everyone."

"I thought almost everybody was straight, too. Like 90 percent. But just in this room it's only 50 percent."

I look around. Three people. Merle's math skills are lacking. I'm about to say only 33 percent are straight when Daryl says, "Merle's counting Nice Doggy on his side."

I nod. Even on short acquaintance I should have expected that from Merle. And I'm so happy that on short acquaintance Daryl knew what I was thinking.

"Me and Nice have to be up with the chickens," Merle announces. "I'm cleaning the hen house tomorrow." They exit.

"You should see this." Daryl leads me to the front window as I hear the roar of a motorcycle starting. Merle rides by with Nice in a carrier on his chest.

"A dog and a hawg. What more could a man need?" I admit to myself that it looks pretty cute.

"Merle has layers." Daryl is defending his brother.

"That sounds like psychology speak."

"I heard it on TV or a movie."

"Well, you're right. People are rarely just one thing. Listen, can I help you finish up? I made you late with the fake lawsuit."

"I was almost done. You'd be long gone if it wasn't for Nice."

"This was my last delivery for the night anyway. Hey, how did Nice get his name?"

"It's kind of funny. We live a mile out of town. About a year ago a dog showed up on the front porch. I called that pet clinic by Atlanta to ask about missing dogs but nobody had reported him so Merle took the dog into Benford to see if anybody claimed him. Nobody did so he stopped by the sheriff's office to talk about a speeding ticket. Sheriff Grimes is a widow man and his little girl was with him that morning. Judy was two then and she comes right up to the dog and pets him and says 'Nice doggy' and asks what his name is."

"Oh no, he didn't."

"Sure he did. Merle says Nice Doggy is a good name and holds out his ticket to the sheriff. Rick got this pained look on his face but what could he do? There's his baby hugging Nice and saying 'I named a doggy!' He grabbed the ticket and told Merle to get the hell out of his office and be sure to get the dog licensed."

"Unbelievable." I pause. "Maybe we could get together again sometime. You know, since Nice went to the trouble of arranging our first date."

"Yeah, I'd like that. But you should know … well, you can already see I'm older than you. Thirty-four. And I only graduated high school. No college or trade school. I'm blue collar."

"I'm 22 and I don't mind the age difference if you don't think I'm too young. And I don't scorn honest labor. It's refreshing to be with a real person after some of the pseudo-intellectual blowhards I know."

Daryl is suppressing laughter.

"What's funny?"

"I hope this don't ruin my chances but when you said blowhard I got a different picture in my mind."

I smile. "Your chances just increased. I like smutty innuendo. With the right person, of course."

"I hope that's me and not my brother."

"It's definitely you."

"The thing is, Merle can be kind of witty about sex stuff. I saw you trying not to laugh earlier."

"You have one big advantage, Daryl."

"What's that?"

"Merle wouldn't follow through with me."

* * *

                                              

"It's been two months. I feel like I owe Merle and Nice for introducing us."

"Don't worry. Merle will need something eventually."

* * *

Two more months and an opportunity presents itself. Merle has a little trouble and could use some legal advice. He wants to consult my attorney. I call Andrea and she offers to come to Benford instead of having Merle stop by her office.

Daryl and I are finishing lunch in the bar and grill. Merle is outside feeding a burger to Nice. A Lexus purrs to the curb and Andrea gets out. We reach the door in time to see her bend over.

"Nice doggy." Andrea pats his head. "What's his name?"

"Why, Sugar, I believe you just named him. I'm gonna go with Nice Doggy."

"Really?"

"Why not? He is a nice dog."

I shake my head. "This is all wrong. It can't be happening again. Men like Merle don't charm women like Andrea."

"They kinda do," Daryl says. "How many smart, good-looking girls on TV end up with a lout?"

"Those are sit-coms. That's not real life."

"But this is. And how did a smart, good-looking kid like you end up with me?"

"You're not a lout."

"I'm not educated."

"There are other kinds of education besides a college degree. I like the way you think. It helps me think differently."

"So it's not just about the sex?"

"We both know how good the sex is. But we've got all the layers: sexual, emotional and mental." I hesitate. "There is one more reason I'm with you."

Daryl looks apprehensive. As well he should.

"I'm already planning my master's thesis around a case study of Merle and Nice."

                                                                  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for RedM who wanted Glenn to run over a dog and need veterinary!Daryl's help. I went in a different direction.


	24. Separation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Separation: an act that divides.
> 
> Daryl has time to think things through in his cell at Negan's sanctuary.

Daryl

You're filthy and naked and lying on the cold concrete floor of a small dark windowless room with cement block walls and a solid locked door. When you were thrown in you paced out the dimensions and ran your hands over as much of the surface as you could reach in order to have some small knowledge of your surroundings.

And to keep from thinking about what happened the night before.

But thoughts of Glenn can't be banished completely so you go back to the beginning for better memories. It was a physical thing when you met at the quarry, born of a mutual recognition that you were both queer. You weren't committed yet, Glenn was a warm willing body, but that changed when the Vatos took him and you realized fucking him wasn't the only thing you would miss and maybe not even the most important thing. After that you knew what you meant to each other. You fought side by side and recognized traits in each other: smart, tough, resourceful. You were about even on resourceful and you might have a slight edge on tough but Glenn had more than an edge on smart.

The world around you got worse but what built between you got better. Not perfect because there was always danger and a struggle to survive. Other folks mattered, too, and a random group of people became a family. There were always separations. No big deal at first, just a few hours when you went hunting and Glenn went scavenging. As time went on it sometimes stretched to days or weeks. It was harder to be apart after Atlanta but necessary because you had different skill sets that came into play at the Greene farm. Rick wanted to stay but Hershel was reluctant. Glenn was likeable and made friends easily. He was a natural liaison between the group and Hershel, Maggie and Beth. You went looking for Sophia. You were rough and intimidating and wouldn't be a convincing reason for Hershel to let the group stay so it was best to keep a low profile. And you wanted to find that little girl.

You were separated again when walkers overran the farm but you and Carol on your motorcycle found the others pretty soon. Glenn was riding with T-Dog who wanted to head to the coast but Glenn made him turn back. After that, all through Lori's pregnancy the group was together clearing houses, taking what was left, resting and moving on. The prison was the first real refuge since the farm. You might still be there if it wasn't for Philip 'The Governor' Blake. That encounter cost you your brother but you and Glenn were safe and there was peace for awhile until Blake showed up again and ruined the prison and everybody scattered.

You traveled with Beth until she was taken and then you fell in with Joe and his gang. You never gave up on Glenn and you know he didn't give up on you either but just staying alive was the priority until you could figure out how to find him. Meeting up with Rick, Carl and Michonne was lucky and seeing the signs for Terminus felt like everybody would converge there. Which they did, locked up in a rail car like cattle to market. Or the slaughterhouse. Kneeling before that trough and seeing the blond guy get his throat cut, you felt grateful to have seen Glenn once more before dying. Then Carol showed up like a force of nature and life went on again, with gains and losses as always.

Alexandria was another refuge and better than the prison but there's always a cost. You went recruiting with Aaron and Glenn went scavenging with Aiden and Nicholas. You got the best of that deal because Aaron is calm and competent and you came across Morgan. Glenn almost got killed repeatedly and you didn't even know about it until it was over.

Everybody makes mistakes with unintended consequences. Aaron lost his pack and it led the Wolves to Alexandria. Morgan let some Wolves leave and they attacked Rick. Rick made an elaborate plan to lead walkers away and too many things went wrong. You're in no position to pass judgment after your impulsive outburst against Negan. You belong in this cell. It's your penance. Punishing the perpetrator was too logical for a sociopath like Negan. You should have known that he'd want somebody else to pay the price.

The door opens and you squint against the light. Dwight hands you a sandwich, your first food in two days. The door closes and a song starts playing, something about being on easy street. You tear into the sandwich like an animal and it's almost gone before you realize the filling is dog food. On the road to Alexandria the group shared a roasted dog. Now you're eating what the dog would eat. Circle of life. Negan and Dwight are mentally defective if they think eating dog food will offend you. You've eaten squirrel, possum and snake. Dog food is processed cleaner than roadkill. Has to be or folks on easy street would complain if their pets got sick.

That damn song is on a continuous loop. The upbeat tune and cheesy words are burning into your brain. It's part of the psychological breakdown process and it might even work if you'd grown up on the happy-go-lucky easy street of the song. But your address was mean street with a dead end and an annoying song isn't hard to take.

A few hours later you admit it's getting on your nerves, mostly because you can't rest. You stick your fingers in your ears but it's awkward to brace your arms and soon after dropping off your fingers come out and you wake up after a few minutes of snatched sleep. Still, this isn't so bad as far as torture goes. You're used to deprivation, not just since Wildfire but all your life.

* * *

The second day there's another sandwich and Dwight tosses in a sweatshirt and pants. Later he takes you to a doctor to check the wound from when he shot you. The doctor has just finished a pregnancy test for Sherry who you recognize from the woods when she was with Dwight and her now dead sister Tina. She tries to talk to you but Dwight warns her off. There's something strange about their interaction. You were under the impression that Sherry was Dwight's wife.

When you meet Negan in the corridor, Dwight kneels and pulls you down with him, both of you pressed against the wall to give as much room as possible to Negan. Dwight puts you on a chair with a fat guy guarding you while Negan takes him aside. Through an open door you see a room furnished like a small efficiency apartment. It looks clean and comfortable but not fancy, unless your current quarters are a bare cell.

Back in your bare cell you give some thought to Dwight. It occurs to you that he might have helped you, not in any overt way but just by choosing the lesser of evils when dealing with you. The lesser evil is plenty harsh enough that nobody would think Dwight is going soft. You have no illusion that he's on your side or that he'll jeopardize his own precarious position in Negan's hierarchy. It's probably because he screwed you over in the burned forest after you gave back Tina's insulin and helped them evade the saviors. Maybe Dwight had enough conscience to regret his actions, especially since he had to go crawling back to Negan after his tough talk about not kneeling anymore.

Dwight shot you when he caught you a few days ago. You recall his words before passing out: "You'll be all right." At the time you assumed he meant you'd survive the gunshot but now you wonder if he had in mind Negan's game in the clearing. Dwight knew Negan always killed somebody from every new community but he liked to think of himself as fair and killing somebody who was already shot and weak wouldn't be sporting or fun. Same reason he didn't pick Maggie who was obviously sick or Michonne, Sasha or Rosita. Killing women could make him look weak. Negan wanted Rick alive and broken as an example to Alexandria. Carl was a kid and would also be useful for keeping Rick in line. Eugene, already crying, wouldn't be satisfying. Neither would Glenn or Aaron who didn't look alpha enough for Negan's purpose. Abraham was a strong man whose loss would diminish the group. If you hadn't been shot, it would have been 50/50 between you and Abraham.

Did Dwight spare your life before that? He put an arrow in Denise's eye and said he was aiming for you. Maybe that was for the benefit of the saviors with him who expected him to kill you.

* * *

The third day your sandwich is brought by the fat guy who guarded you on the chair and you discover he didn't lock the door when he closed it. It could be a trap instead of carelessness but you have to take the chance. Sneaking through the halls you come across Sherry who tells you to go back while you can. You can't give up that easy. You almost make it but not really because it was a trap and the saviors let you get as far as you did. Negan comes out and asks his men in turn who they are and they all say Negan like they're part of some Borg Collective. Negan swings Lucille at you but you don't flinch. Negan laughs it off and leaves and the saviors beat you up.

In your cell again, your thoughts turn to Negan instead of Dwight. You wonder if Lucille was Negan's wife or daughter or mother. There's some issue wrapped up with the barbed wire around that bat. Before you can speculate further, Dwight opens the door and throws a picture on the floor. After the door closes you force yourself to look. His clothes are the only way you can tell it's Abraham. Getting beaten after three days of sleep deprivation and not enough food or water has brought you low enough to give in to despair. Dwight was probably listening and decides you're near breaking point. He takes you to the little apartment you saw before. Negan is there. He tells you about Dwight and Sherry and Tina and the tension between Dwight and Sherry in the doctor's office makes sense now. Dwight took an iron to the face and agreed to work for Negan to save Sherry's life. Sherry agreed to marry Negan to save Dwight's life. Dwight has become one of Negan's top guys and Negan thinks you can be one of those guys. All you have to do is tell him who you are. Dwight is disgusted when you say Daryl instead of Negan. You can't tell if Negan is angry or disappointed but he accepts your choice and sends you back to your cell.

* * *

The next day you're loaded into one of the trucks headed to Alexandria. It's only been a few days instead of the week Negan told them. Showing up early is another way to keep them off balance. Negan bashes a walker outside the gate to impress Rick and Alexandria and you have to be careful not to show your contempt. Does Negan really think he's hot shit putting down a walker with a weapon more than three feet long? Judith is the only member of Alexandria who couldn't have taken the walker by the neck and stuck a knife in its brain. In a few seconds, up close and personal, and without making a song and dance of it. Negan is selling his 'protection' for half of Hilltop and Alexandria's goods. Of course the protection is a polite fiction. He doesn't even bother to post a few of his saviors at each place to pretend they'll help. It's a shakedown racket, plain and simple. And he's gotten away with it for almost two years. Probably he organized fast when Wildfire started and that made him strong in a world gone wrong so suddenly. Safety meant something back then when folks didn't know yet that safety would become as rare as everything else they took for granted: food and water, toothpaste and toilet paper, electricity and plumbing. By the time civilization broke down, Negan was the new order and momentum kept him going. But that could only last so long and you don't understand why somebody hasn't taken him out by now. Must be that your group is meant to do it.

Maybe Negan started out different, meaning to help. Wouldn't be the first time that power corrupted. The Governor of Woodbury comes to mind. You understand subjugation as a tactic but it doesn't work long term and the constant kneeling and saying his name is ridiculous. Even kings way back didn't demand that. Not the sane ones anyway. Men knelt once and pledged themselves to the king and after that respect was all that was required. Negan and his antics are just tedious. You'd think he'd get tired of it but apparently megalomania likes a lot of fake humility. Some of it must be fake, right? Going along to get along. Dwight ain't happy despite Negan saying they're totally cool now. Even the top guys who are loyal are probably humoring him to keep their place in the good life provided by Negan. Which you don't think is all that good. Sure, the sanctuary is a stronghold, hard to attack and easy to defend, but most folks have nothing but a cot and maybe a curtain to pull for privacy. They got sucked into the savior organization before they learned to deal with walkers and now they're afraid to be on their own. Yeah, it's a dangerous world but the real threat is psychos like Negan. Walkers can be handled if there aren't too many at a time. Walkers will kill you but there's no malice, it's just their nature.

You wonder if you would have ended up a savior, maybe one of Negan's top guys, if you and Merle hadn't gone to the quarry and met a different group. When Merle left he joined the Woodbury outfit that might have become like the saviors if the Governor was still alive. You could see the same thing happening to you if you hadn't hooked up with Glenn. That gave you a reason to stay after Merle was gone. You got exposed to people who wanted to do right and it put you on a different path. Who you are now, the man you've become, is due to Glenn, Rick, Carol, Dale, T-Dog, Andrea, Hershel, Maggie, Beth, Michonne, Tyreese, Sasha, Tara, Abraham, Eugene, Rosita, Aaron, Denise, Morgan, Carl and Lil Asskicker. So many gone but you can still help the others. You learned to act by watching Carol who switched from cheerful den mother to survivor/assassin/one-woman cavalry. So you'll play the part of hostage, staying silent with eyes down. Except when you first see Rick. He tries to talk to you but Negan forbids it. That's okay. There are other ways to communicate.

Dwight is treating you like shit. You're not sure if he hates you for not giving in to Negan like he did or if he's putting on a show for Alexandria, Negan and the saviors. Dwight sends Rosita and Spencer for your motorcycle which is hidden outside Alexandria. You dutifully follow the crew around, carrying stuff to the trucks. Negan said he's a man of his word but that's only when it suits him. He tells Rick that half is what he says it is and proceeds to loot the place. Carl causes trouble when the saviors take all the medicine so all the guns get confiscated. Which would have happened anyway. Negan's not about to let any community bear arms against him. Rosita and Spencer get back with your motorcycle and Dwight mounts it, taunting you. Dwight now has your vest, crossbow and bike. Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery but you're not particularly flattered that Dwight wants to be you. Rick turns over a gun Negan didn't know about. Michonne is furious but you see that Rick is playing by Negan's rules for now. Picking battles is a lesson you learned recently yourself. Rick asks if you can stay and Negan tells you to make your case. It's another test and there's no way to win so you look down and say nothing.

Negan gets in a few more jabs to Rick before leaving. He never shuts up. Someday you'll wipe the smirk off that smug bastard's face. He's had a captive audience for so long with nobody willing to speak out that he thinks he's funny. Truth is, he's got no timing, his pacing is piss poor, his one-liners are lame and he says 'Wow' and 'Cool' too much. He needs new material and better writers. You're no comedian yourself but you played straight man to Merle most of your life and the last few years to Glenn so you've watched masters at work and Negan is a hack. You could do better yourself. In fact, maybe you just did. Is there another name for the straight man if he happens to be gay? Yep, a legend in your own mind. Your brother could be an asshole but he had a sly sense of humor. Maybe that's why you went for Glenn who has a similar style. Nothing wrong with his asshole either. Negan's brute force and crude humor is no substitute for wit with some intelligence behind it.

You get in the back of the truck. There's barely room to sit with knees drawn up and one arm hanging out. As the truck starts to move you trace 'I O U' in the dust of the tailgate. You glance back and see Glenn's face almost hidden behind Rick but his eyes and smile are visible. You smile back. As the truck picks up speed you smear the letters away.

Glenn

Daryl got my message and returned it!

When Aaron came to tell me that Daryl was with the saviors I wanted to see him so badly but after what happened in the clearing I knew I couldn't risk it. Rick and I had talked about it and decided I should be out scavenging when Negan arrived but he came early so I'm staying out of sight unless he asks for me.

I have to take the chance to make contact. It can't be obvious and I'll only have a couple of opportunities or someone else might notice. Daryl is with a crew heading to our street so that's good. He'll probably be in every house on the block. I run in our back door and go to the small dry erase board we use to leave notes for each other. It's blank now. I scribble 'Meet at church 6 pm' in the middle for cover then add 'I O U' at the top, a reference to 'our song' although Daryl doesn't like to acknowledge it. I dash over to Rick's house and up to Judith's room. She's being kept out of sight, too. The saviors will find out there's a baby in the community but there's no need to bring her to their attention. Her room is empty but Daryl won't know that and he's likely to sneak a look. Judith's blocks are in a bag. I dump them on the dresser and arrange them so 'I O U' are together and separate from the others but not blatantly so. Then I hide and wait until Negan and the saviors leave. I get to the gate in time for one look at Daryl. It's not enough but it means everything right now.

I understand why Daryl did what he did. If I didn't know better I'd be jealous of all the women Daryl has tried to protect. Sophia, a sweet scared girl. Beth, an uncertain teenager. Denise who doubted herself and had just found her place in Alexandria. Carol, a strong but suffering woman. And traumatized Rosita who had already lost Abraham to Sasha and then the final loss to death in the most brutal way. Daryl is chivalrous and these women were family, a composite of female relationships he never had before: mother, aunt, sister, daughter.

It's possible for the horror of what nearly happened to be almost as devastating as if it actually happened. Daryl's well-meaning but very ill-advised action almost got me killed. I didn't blame him but he blames himself. I hope after today he'll forgive himself. We'll be together again someday.

Daryl

The message from Glenn and that one glimpse of him lifts your spirits considerably. You saw the love and forgiveness and understanding in his eyes that night and you knew he was all right but you couldn't quite believe it until you saw him again. You didn't expect to see him because you figured he would make himself scarce. Not a good idea to remind Negan of coulda, shoulda, woulda.

The violence of Abraham's death was shocking even though you were prepared for what it would look like. But the sacrifice had been made and it was over. Until you opened your mouth and closed your fist and went for Negan because he was practically rubbing Rosita's nose in the bat covered with Abraham's blood and bone and brains. It was a moment of unrestrained fury that almost got Glenn killed.

Even now you feel sick remembering Negan turning on Glenn and raising Lucille still dripping with gore. The downward swing, Glenn's lightning jerk sideways, the bat ripping the upper sleeve of his jacket. You were afraid Negan's rage at strike one would make him prolong Glenn's agony, maybe pounding his arms and legs while he could still feel it before finishing him off.

Instead: "Wow! That is one fast little fucker!" Negan gave everybody his genial meaningless smile. "Reflexes like that could be useful. It's your lucky night," he said to Glenn before turning to Daryl. "And yours. You didn't get your friend killed after all. But this shit can't keep happening."

So you became Negan's hostage to the good behavior of Rick and Alexandria. You were so shaken by your fuck-up and so relieved that it wasn't fatal that you went willingly and wouldn't let yourself dwell on what happened. Now you think Negan's reaction gave you another glimpse of the man behind the mask. And there's definitely a mask. He set himself up as larger-than-life and always in control. But nobody can anticipate everything and Negan's need to be in control means he has to be unpredictable as a way to preserve that control.

When Glenn dodged the first blow Negan chose to laugh and let him live, citing quick reflexes. It was a decision on the fly that worked well for him but now you think it was also the only move he could make. What if Negan swung again and Glenn evaded him a second time? Negan would have lost control of the situation even if Glenn ended up dead eventually. Negan has an image to maintain and repeatedly missing a guy on his knees might have the saviors laughing at him not with him.

The convoy stops and you're ordered to help dump mattresses at the side of the road. Negan took almost all the mattresses and now he sets them on fire a mile from Alexandria. What a dick move.

You'll watch and learn all you can about the saviors and the sanctuary. There may be more opportunities to blink a Morse code message to Rick as you did when you first emerged from the truck. You'll give in to Negan a little here and there, not too much and not too soon or it won't be believable because you've already established that you're a hard case. This will be your life for now but not forever. You and Glenn will be together again someday.

                                                                             

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Lee Greenwood - I Owe You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e8_z_n1n6s8)  
>  This version has beautiful images but one of the lyrics is wrong. _And the nights of all this loving_ should be _And the nights of honest loving_.
> 
>  **Missing Scene**  
>  Glenn: We should have a song.  
> Daryl: Why?  
> Glenn: Couples have songs. It’s a little private thing whenever we hear it.  
> Daryl: Yeah, we can call the local radio station and ask them to play it. Wait, nobody’s broadcasting.  
> Glenn: You know what I mean. It’s romantic shorthand for what our relationship means. You don’t like the idea?  
> Daryl: We’re too important for that. What song can cover what we got going on?  
> Glenn: Hmm.  
> Daryl: Are you buying this or do you suspect I’m avoiding something romantic?  
> Glenn: You’re right.  
> Daryl: I am?  
> Glenn: So you should write a song for us.  
> Daryl: Well, that backfired on me.  
> Glenn laughing: Don’t worry. I’ll pick our song.  
> 


	25. Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celebration: festive event, important occasion.
> 
> Daryl watches a new cooking show with Glenn as the chef.

Daryl

Surfing through channels, Daryl's attention was caught by a young Asian man smiling directly at him and inviting him to watch his new cookery show, _Celebrate with Glenn Rhee_ , starting in September. Daryl was intrigued enough to look it up and discover that it wouldn't be the usual daily or even weekly format. It would be a two-hour special once a month. It was being produced by a small station out of Atlanta and would be airing locally. He figured the budget was tight so they were starting modestly, hoping it would do well and get picked up by a network.

Daryl had never watched a cooking show on purpose. The few times he'd seen a minute or two of various shows in passing he hadn't been impressed. He knew a lot of good cooks right here in Benford. They didn't make fancy sauces and use weird spices but Daryl would be glad to sit down at any of their tables and had done so numerous times and never been disappointed.

But the kid in the promo was something else. He looked young – mid twenties – to have his own show. There were decent Chinese places in Atlanta but Daryl didn't know anybody who cooked that stuff at home. Might be interesting to watch once. He set the DVR to record it.

* * *

"Welcome to the show that celebrates food! I'll be preparing favorites from around the country, including right here in Georgia, but first up is Chicago. I grew up in Ann Arbor, Michigan. There are plenty of great cooks there – my Mom is one – but Chicago is where I first became aware of food as more than fuel for the body. My family went to Chicago several time a year for shopping and entertainment. And to eat!"

Daryl was captivated. It was Friday night and he was alone. Merle hadn't been particularly interested when Daryl passed on going to the bar and grill in favor of a sandwich and TV at home.

"A friend of mine is here to help. We were roommates when I was starting out as a chef. Noah taste-tested my recipes then, including the not very successful ones, so it's only fair that he's here to share now that – hopefully – I know what I'm doing."

Daryl didn't care for Noah at first. He was a lanky black man a few years younger than Glenn Rhee. Daryl watched them together and for some reason was pleased to see only the ease of friendship with no hint of a closer relationship. Daryl warmed to him when Noah asked if he could take the leftovers home to Beth. Noah had a girlfriend. Daryl decided it was a good idea to have somebody else in the kitchen for Glenn to riff with since there was no studio audience for him to play off of.

He watched Glenn explaining that Chicago-style deep-dish pizza is well-known so he wouldn't be doing that. Instead, he made pizza puffs, which originated in Chicago. He described each step, adding bits of Chicago history and making it interesting even to somebody like Daryl who thought he was just watching a good-looking kid onscreen. In fact Daryl had muted the sound at first, content to see Glenn but soon the visual wasn't enough and Daryl unmuted and listened to the kid's cheerful voice and infectious laugh.

Glenn made everything from scratch including the puff pastry. He mixed up his own tomato paste with fresh tomatoes and herbs and spices. He added an unusual cheese. The pizza puffs came out of the fryer perfectly browned. They were all the same size and looked identical. Daryl was sure if he tried to make them they'd be uneven sizes with some burnt and some undercooked. The second item was a steak sandwich with fried plantains instead of bread. It made Daryl lick his lips even though he'd just finished his own sandwich. It seemed very inferior now.

Glenn finished up with chocolate brownies which Daryl hadn't known got their start in Chicago in 1893. Glenn made the brownies the same way, no mix in sight. He used a special chocolate for the base and iced them with a buttercream ganache and drizzled a glaze over that. It dripped evenly from the back of a spoon and made a pretty pattern. He made everything look easy but Daryl was doubtful. So was Noah who shook his head and said it was too complicated for him.

Glenn smiled and said that he'd taken the long way in order to show how it's done for serious cooks. He agreed that not everyone has the time or money or interest to make every dish so elaborate. He went through the recipes again, suggesting shortcuts and substitutions that simplified the process to the point Daryl thought he could make the stuff himself, although he had no intention of doing so. Glenn even approved brownie mixes and frozen puff pastry. So the kid was a foodie but not a snob about it.

Glenn said _Celebrate_ would be for all kinds of cooks and he would continue to go through the long and short versions of recipes. Viewers were invited to share their own shortcuts and substitutions. He finished by listing the staple ingredients and basic tools that should be part of every pantry and kitchen. He added other items for the cooks who wanted to stretch their skills.

When it was over, Daryl watched the whole thing again.

Then he went to his room for privacy.

* * *

The next month featured Cajun and Creole cuisine. Daryl didn't really know the difference. He learned that in general Cajun is country and Creole is city. Glenn's guests were Carol Peletier and Michonne Gurira. Peletier was a French name and Carol had grown up in rural Louisiana. Gurira was African American but her first name was French and she was from New Orleans. Both had ended up in Georgia. That led to Glenn explaining that his parents emigrated from South Korea. He had left Michigan to attend cooking schools all over the country but he also ended up in Georgia. Carol and Michonne shared their favorite recipes and Glenn made them. The women were smart and funny and got along with Glenn and each other. It was another good show. Afterwards Daryl went to his room again. And he started thinking of Glenn as Korean instead of Chinese.

* * *

Daryl wasn't surprised that the November show was about Thanksgiving. He had company watching it because Merle returned ten minutes after leaving.

"Forget something?" Daryl asked.

"I came back to see what you were gettin' up to home alone. What the hell you watching?"

"Cooking show."

"I see that. Guess I should have asked who are you watching. 'Cause I believe I know why you've become a homebody. Georgia not good enough for you? You gotta go to China for satisfaction?"

"He's Korean, born in Michigan."

"Whatever. Didn't know you had such exotic tastes."

"Don't give me grief, Merle. I got a crush on the chef. So what? Nothing gonna come of it so leave me alone."

"Oh, I think somebody might come. Move over, I wanna watch and see what the appeal is."

"He's not gonna appeal to you."

"Just wanna find out what your type is."

Glenn did a true traditional meal, not the holiday dinner that has become tradition. He said turkey may have been on the menu back in 1621 but just as likely it was goose so that was the bird he prepared. The stuffing was made of cornmeal, herbs, onions and nuts. The fish dish was mussels with curds. Vegetable sides were beans, spinach and carrots. Plums, gooseberries and cranberries rounded out the feast along with pumpkin custard sweetened with honey. Glenn's guests were Hershel Greene and his daughters Maggie and Beth. Hershel had always kept a garden but he took it up full time after retiring as a veterinarian. His farm provided most of the produce for Glenn's show. Beth was the same Beth whose boyfriend Noah was on the first show. Daryl wondered about Maggie but he relaxed as the show progressed and there was no sign of flirtation or chemistry together except as friends.

When it was over Merle said, "I got new insight into my brother. You really like this kid?"

"Yeah."

"You oughta call him."

"I wouldn't get through. The station will have somebody taking his calls."

"I suppose so."

"Not sure he's gay anyway."

"Can't always tell."

Daryl was relieved that Merle dropped the subject.

Glenn

The admin assistant calls to say I have a visitor. I'm not expecting anyone so I ask who it is and what it's about. She says Merle Dixon has an idea for _Celebrate_ about Georgia that doesn't involve fancy food at popular places in Atlanta.

Is this serendipity? I'm planning the Georgia segment right now and want it to be special and different. I'm worried because I can't seem to come up with something special and different. I'll take a chance. "Send him back."

Tara brings him instead of directing him to my cubicle and I see why when she shows him in. She didn't want Merle Dixon wandering around on his own. He's under six feet and average build but appears imposing with blunt features and graying hair buzzed short.

He looks me over. "Never met anybody from TV before."

"You like _Celebrate_?" The ratings are good for a small independent show and I'm glad to meet a fan.

"Wouldn't miss it."

I invite Merle to sit down and tell me his idea. I wonder if he's a chef himself or a wannabe who wants to get on the show.

"You should do a show about what folks eat in Georgia when they hunt their own food in the backwoods and hill country."

"Like venison or bear?"

"Naw, deer and bear are more for sport hunting. I'm talking about small game like doves and possum, squirrel and rabbit."

"Interesting." It is. This idea has potential. "Where would we get the game?"

"You need a hunter. Somebody you could go with and show viewers the whole thing from woods to table."

I get it now. Merle wants to be on the show in his natural habitat not mine. The woods instead of a kitchen. "Are you a hunter, Merle?"

"Sure, but I wouldn't be good for this. I got a brother, he's a hunter and a game warden. Mostly uses a crossbow."

"Hmm." That does sound perfect. A professional man who is an archer, not just a guy firing a gun.

"There's pictures of staff on the website. Look him up: Daryl Dixon."

I hand Merle my tablet and he pulls up the Georgia Department of Natural Resources Wildlife Division. He hands it back and I feel like a hunter with his prey in sight. Daryl Dixon has dark hair well below his ears. Doesn't look like a regulation cut but I like it. There's a glint of blue from his eyes. His shoulders are broad and his arms in short sleeves are tan and strong. He looks wonderful in the uniform but I bet it's too warm in the summer. They should issue a loincloth for hot weather. Daryl is probably straight and fucking women in the woods against trees. Even so, I'd love to meet this guy. And it would make a great show regardless of sexual orientation.

"You know that I have guests on the show?"

Merle nods.

"If we were to do this, I'd like to get film of me on the hunt and then the hunter in the kitchen with me. Would your brother do that?"

"I bet he would but you'd have to ask. We both watch but Daryl don't know I had this idea."

"I'm glad you stopped by. I think it would be just right for our segment about local dishes."

"What do I get for contributing to the show?"

We agree on terms and Merle gives me a phone number for Daryl. I discuss the idea with the station manager Dale Horvath and he approves, enthusiastically. I call Daryl the next day.

"Hello?"

"Daryl Dixon?"

"Yeah."

"This is Glenn Rhee of the _Celebrate_ show …"

Daryl interrupts with a half-laugh, half-snort. "You even sound like him. Did Merle put you up to this?"

"Well, yes, but it's not a joke. I really am Glenn Rhee."

"What?" Daryl sounds stunned.

"Your brother pitched an idea for an episode of _Celebrate_ and I'd like to discuss it with you."

"Merle had an idea?"

"A good one. We're very impressed. You would play a key part and I'd like to talk to you as soon as possible. Here at the station, or I could meet you somewhere."

"I'm at work."

"Actually, that would be perfect, if you could take a break. Your job is part of this." It's really not, I just want to see Daryl in person in his uniform.

"Okay." Daryl gives me his location and we agree to meet in an hour.

Daryl is even better in the flesh, so to speak. He blushes when he sees me. Is it possible he likes what he sees? I'm not a big enough deal on TV for him to be star-struck.

Daryl

Daryl should have known his brother didn't just drop subjects. He was like a dog with a bone if he got hold of something that interested him. Daryl wasn't sure why Merle would put himself out on his brother's behalf. No doubt there was more to it and he would find out eventually.

Glenn was the same in person: smooth stride, open face, effortless smile. It felt odd to see him without the filter of a screen. Then Daryl flushed, remembering what he did in his room after watching _Celebrate_. Get it together, he told himself. The kid doesn't know what you did.

Glenn had brought coffee in insulated mugs. They sat in Daryl's work truck to drink it. Glenn explained Merle's idea. Daryl admitted it sounded pretty good. He didn't much like being the center of attention but he couldn't pass this up. He told Glenn he'd do it.

Later at home Daryl said he owed his brother but Merle waved off gratitude for getting him introduced to Glenn.

"No thanks needed. I get a nice fee and my name in the credits as Creative Consultant," Merle said with satisfaction.

* * *

For December's show Glenn went home to Ann Arbor to prepare a Korean holiday meal. Daryl got a kick out of seeing him with his family. Mom was clearly in charge. Glenn might be making everything, but only with her supervision and approval. His sisters helped prep – rinsing and chopping vegetables, measuring and setting out ingredients.

Pop sat in his chair watching TV. His opinion was enlisted for the final flavor taste and his suggestions were taken seriously. Daryl got the impression that Glenn's energy, organization and technical skill came from Mom but Pop had a lot to do with his creativity. Each time Mom and Glenn added what Pop advised, then conferred and agreed it was the right call.

"Told you," Pop yelled from his chair.

The first time Glenn had asked, "Pop, can you taste this and tell us what it needs?"

"Sure." But Pop didn't get up.

"Well?" Glenn said.

"Want my help, bring to me. Why should I move?"

Pop didn't sound mad, he just didn't think he should be put to any trouble. Daryl found this attitude familiar and felt that Merle and Pop had something in common.

* * *

 Glenn

I was attracted when I saw Daryl's picture and even more so after meeting him. It felt like there was a spark between us but I'm not sure if I should make a move. Daryl looks about ten years older. Would he like to be the pursuer? I feel like he should go first to show that I'm not too young for him. We're both busy, too. Daryl is working extra shifts for family men who want more time off for the holiday and I'm going to Michigan for Thanksgiving in a few days. Maybe I should keep it professional for now. If anything develops, it can happen slowly.

Filming for the January show starts when I get back and I also have to finish planning the March show. Daryl and I have reasons to stay in touch. He comes to the station to meet everyone. He returns for a detailed meeting, including discussion of all the ingredients needed for the dishes. I call him several times with questions. The spark has become embers that are giving off heat. There's some smoke but no fire yet. I go to Michigan for Christmas with my family. When I get back to Georgia it's time to start filming with Daryl.

Daryl

Daryl had worried that getting to know Glenn would spoil the image he'd built up from watching him. Folks on TV were often different in real life but there had been no sign of that yet. This kid was genuine and Daryl thought there was something going on between them. But he was also ten years younger so Daryl felt like Glenn should make the first move to show that the age difference didn't matter. If something did happen, Daryl was afraid it might be just a quick thing while they were filming the show. Not that Glenn seemed like the bed hopping type but Daryl didn't suppose himself such a prize that a young guy on TV would be interested long term.

* * *

The January show celebrated California cuisine with Andrea Harrison who was general counsel for the station and had attended law school in California. Merle watched her with unabashed admiration. By the end of the show he was singing "I wish they all could be California girls" under his breath.  
                                                                       

* * *

Glenn

The Georgia segment won't air until February but we start after Christmas. Daryl comes to the studio kitchen and we practice the recipes using preserved meat from previous hunts. My cameraman and soundman film it, not only so we can see how Daryl and I interact onscreen but so Daryl can get used to the camera and other people being around. It goes well but there's a little stiffness that I suspect is nervousness with each other rather than Daryl being unfamiliar with the situation.

I review the film with Aaron and Eric. The three of us have worked together for months. The two of them have worked together several years. They met professionally and eventually became a couple. We all agree Daryl and I have good rapport. The stiffness isn't obvious and hopefully will disappear in the casual atmosphere of the hunt which is two days away.

Aaron and Eric leave for the day. I return to the kitchen so Daryl and I can run through everything again. Without the camera and crew, we're very aware of each other. Everyone else is gone and we're alone. We stop pretending to work and just look at each other. Suddenly the flames burst and we move towards each other. As we kiss, Daryl presses me against the counter. He turns me around with my back to him and bends over my shoulder. I turn my face up for another kiss. His mouth asks a question and my lips answer yes.

"We don't have lube," Daryl whispers. "What do you want to do instead?"

"We're in a kitchen, Daryl. We can use a substitute." I reach into a cupboard and hand him a bottle.

"Extra virgin. You trying to tell me something?"

"It only applies to the olive oil, not me."

Daryl fills me in the most satisfying way. We're aching for release and I feel both exhilaration and relief when it comes. Afterwards we clean up ourselves and the kitchen. It's awkward again, as if we don't quite know what this means or where it will lead. The hunt is the day after tomorrow and we need to be comfortable with each other. I thought easing the sexual tension would help but now I'm not sure. What if sex is all Daryl cares about? What if this one time is all he wants?

"Would you like to … uh … get together again sometime?" I hate that I sound so tentative.

"I was kind of hoping tonight wasn't over," Daryl replies.

"I thought you might want to wait …"

"You think I'm a one and done man?" Daryl demands. "I'm gonna prove you wrong if it takes all night."

That's not what I meant and Daryl knows it but his mock indignation melts the awkwardness. We go to my place. A few hours later I tell him I'm convinced.

Still, I have no objection when Daryl offers a reminder the next morning.

* * *

The day after that I head to the woods with Daryl. Aaron and Eric follow with camera and sound equipment.

"Welcome to a special episode of _Celebrate_. This month we're not looking anywhere else for recipes and favorite foods. We're staying in Georgia and making dishes with meat that hunters provide for their families. I'm not a hunter myself so with me today is Daryl Dixon, a lifelong hunter and resident of Georgia. He's also a game warden. Rabbit and squirrel season is November 1st through February 28th. This show will air in February but we need about seven weeks lead time so it's late December right now. Daryl will explain his hunting methods but we won't show the actual taking of the game. Guys with camera and sound equipment will scare off skittish critters so Aaron and Eric will leave before we get close."

Daryl points out scat and other signs of the animals we're looking for. He explains that squirrels and rabbits have small bodies so a head shot is best to conserve as much meat as possible. He's using a crossbow because he wants to get several animals in a short time and gunshots will make game wary. The last scene before Aaron and Eric go to wait with the SUV is me asking Daryl, "Can I come with you?"

"Have to be real quiet."

"I can do that."

"You sure? I watch your show. You're a talker."

"I promise not to say a word."

"All right. Follow me but stay back and step careful."

We came out early, hoping to get all the game we need in one day. We plan to tape this evening and into the night because Daryl wants to use the meat as soon as possible. If the hunting is poor today, we'll try again tomorrow. If that doesn't work, we'll use preserved meat from animals Daryl bagged last week, but he prefers to have fresh meat for the show.

Daryl gets three squirrels and a good-sized rabbit. We head back to the SUV where Aaron and Eric are set up to film us coming out of the woods. Daryl expertly field dresses the game and puts the squirrel meat to soak in salt water.

Back in the studio kitchen we go to work. We know each other much better now. The uncertainty of starting a relationship is behind us. Our rapport is just right – no awkwardness or nerves. I start with the squirrel, explaining each step as usual. It looks and smells great by the time I show the finished crock-pot to Daryl.

"Behold our Cassoulet Ecureuil."

"I didn't catch that. Casserole ek-que …?"

"Cass-soo-lay Ek-que-egh."

"You keep clearing your throat at the end."

"That's how it's pronounced. It's French."

"So you got a frog in your throat? French are called frogs, get it?"

I call out to Aaron, "That will need to be edited out."

"Okay," Aaron replies.

"Why?" Daryl asked.

"It's insulting to French people," I say mildly because I know Daryl didn't mean it that way.

"Didn't mean to insult anybody. I just thought it was funny their language is kind of croaky. Is that why they get called frogs?"

"It started because they eat frog legs."

Daryl shrugged. "Nothing wrong with that. But there's not much meat on them."

"This is gold," Eric says. "Are you sure it's too offensive to air?"

I can't help laughing. "We'll let Dale decide."

"This is your fault," Daryl says. "Trying to fancy up good plain cooking with French names."

"The name is accurate."

"This isn't a casserole."

"Cassoulet isn't French for casserole. It's a rich thick soup made with white beans and meat."

"Here in the U.S we call it squirrel stew."

Next I bring out the rabbit meat and go through the recipe. When the gently steaming dish is removed from the oven, I present it to Daryl. "I call this Cottontail en croute."

"On croot?"

"It means in crust."

"So we're talking rabbit pie."

I sigh. "Yes."

We finish up with the fruit Georgia is famous for. "I'm using preserved peaches since this isn't peach season in Georgia. This will be a variation on a well-known dessert. Use a cookie cutter to cut a round slice of pound cake. Place it in a bowl with a peach half on top, hole side up. A dip of ice cream in the middle and top it with another peach half, hole side down to cover the ice cream. Drizzle generously with raspberry sauce. Add whipped cream and a whole raspberry. Peche Melba!"

"There you go again. It's Peaches Mabel."

"No, it's Melba."

Daryl frowns. "You sure?"

"It was invented more than a hundred years ago in honor of the opera singer Nellie Melba."

"Huh. I thought it was a local lady name of Mabel who brought it to a church potluck."

"Are you messing with me?"

Daryl reddens. "No! I was a kid. I musta made a wrong connection."

"Well, it's an easy misunderstanding. Since I changed up the recipe, let's go with Peaches Mabel."

"Really?"

"Sure. And it will go in the cookbook like that."

"What cookbook?"

"I'm publishing a cookbook with all the recipes from the show. I'd like you to help me."

* * *

Viewers for the show have been climbing each month but they jump after the February show, especially when DVR viewings for the following week are included. And then DVR viewings for previous months increase. People are catching up on the show from the beginning!

Daryl and I are spending more and more time together. He's relieved that his appearance helped my show instead of tanking it.

* * *

My guest for March is station owner Dale Horvath who quit his previous job when his wife died and traveled around the country for awhile in his RV. He liked sampling local cuisine which is why he was interested in producing a cooking show when he returned to Georgia and bought this small station. While I make the sandwich, he tells about the regional fast food chain Runza, founded in 1949 in Lincoln, Nebraska. It's a midwest thing, in only a few states. The runza sandwich originated with Volga German immigrants from Russia. It's fresh baked bread stuffed with ground beef, onions, cabbage and spices. Cheese is optional. The restaurants also offer fries and onion rings, or half of each in a side called Frings. Dale says my version of the runza is the closest he's tasted to the real thing.

* * *

April is Tex-Mex with Eugene Porter, originally from Houston, and Rosita Espinosa, who came here from Dallas. They have a friendly rivalry about their favorite cuisine.

"Tex is first despite being later alphabetically; ergo, the Texan touch is the most important element in the Tex-Mex fusion." Eugene delivers the line deadpan.

"You ever hear of 'Last but not least'?" Rosita's tone is tart.

"First and foremost," Eugene says in his flat voice.

"Saving the best for last," Rosita replies.

"I concede that we have reached an impasse," Eugene says reluctantly.

"It won't be decided today," Rosita agrees. "But someday …"

They smile at each other, still friends. It's a fun show.

* * *

I ask Daryl to come back in May. "Dale wants a special last episode of the season. You come back and we'll do a cook-off together. Your shortcut version and my fancy version. You get to pick the menu."

"How did this come about?" Daryl asks suspiciously.

"Merle went to see Andrea and suggested it. She liked the idea and took it to Dale. He loved the idea and asked me to make it happen. Merle is getting another fee and creative consultant credit. I don't know why he didn't come to me like last time."

"I know why. This time it was an excuse to meet Andrea.  Merle's been infatuated since he saw her on your show. I'd say he's out of his league but the same thing happened to me and look at us now."

Daryl

Daryl was happier than he ever thought to be since things got settled between him and Glenn. No more wondering about everything like in the beginning. They could just talk now. Within a few months they had begun making plans for the future.

Daryl had liked being on the show once but he didn't expect to go back. He couldn't turn Glenn down, though, so he agreed to the cook-off. He chose grilled cheese sandwiches, tomato soup and tiramisu. Filming began as they walked into the studio kitchen. Daryl carried two plastic grocery bags and the cup of plain coffee he'd gotten from a McDonald's drive thru the night before, which was now cold. Glenn had only one bag because the kitchen already contained most of what he needed. His coffee was cold, too, but he had ground the beans the night before and brewed a cup of gourmet espresso. They unpacked on separate counters and started with tiramisu since it would need to be refrigerated for awhile.

Daryl went first, suiting his actions to words: "Unwrap the Twinkies and cut them lengthwise. Lay them aside. Whip heavy cream with powdered sugar, beat in vanilla and soft cream cheese and set it aside. Pour the cold coffee into a small deep bowl and stir in rum. You can use brandy or kahlua or most any kind of alcohol. Dip the Twinkie slices one at a time real quick so they don't get soggy and fall apart. Lay them in a 8 by 8 pan. Cover them with half the cream stuff and sift or shake cocoa powder on top. Do another layer of Twinkies and cream stuff but don't put cocoa powder on top. Cover and put it in the fridge four hours or overnight. Sift or shake more cocoa powder on top before eating. You don't wanna put the top layer of cocoa on until you're ready to serve or it'll sink into the cream layer and look gunky."

Glenn's steps were much the same but he made three layers and used ladyfingers, mascarpone cheese and Marsala wine instead of Twinkies, cream cheese and rum. He would also sprinkle chocolate curls on top of the cocoa powder before serving.

Daryl opened his can of condensed tomato soup, added water and set it to heat. "For the grilled cheese I use a non-stick pan and spatula. Wal-Mart has a good sauté pan for 6 bucks and spatula for a dollar. You know what comes next. Spread soft butter on a slice of bread and put it butter side down. Two slices of Velveeta makes it nice and cheesy but you can make do with one slice if you have to. Butter another piece of bread and put it on with the butter side up. Medium heat 5 or 6 minutes on the first side but maybe only 3 or 4 minutes when you flip it because the pan is hot by then. Serve it with the soup. Nothing to it."

Glenn had roasted tomatoes, chicken broth, onion, garlic, bay leaf and butter to prepare homemade soup. For the sandwich he had baked a loaf of bread and brought several artisanal cheeses. He mixed a little creamy spiced salad dressing with softened butter for the outside of the bread then asked, "Since we're going to eat each other's lunch, what meat would you like between the cheese? A slice of home-cured ham or my special meatloaf?"

"Meatloaf. I think I'm gonna get the best of this deal."

"Remember, _Celebrate_ is for all kinds of cooks. We're showing them a simple and an elaborate way to prepare the same food."

Glenn had no complaints about Daryl's simple prep: "The soup has a nice flavor and it's smooth, just right for dipping. The sandwich is tasty and oozing cheese with every bite."

Daryl didn't bother with a detailed analysis: "Best soup and sandwich ever. Mine is good eating but yours is fine dining. Want a bite?"

Glenn nodded. Daryl dipped a corner of the sandwich in the soup and offered it to Glenn.

"It's a big piece of meat. I can hardly get my mouth around it," Glenn said casually. "Mmm. That is some of my best work."

Daryl had been watching Glenn's mouth as he chewed and swallowed. "There's a couple things you do better," he said straight-faced.

Glenn smiled. "Ready for dessert? I could use something creamy to finish off."

When filming wrapped Aaron asked, "Do you really think anyone will be fooled by your comments about thick pieces of meat and that other sex stuff? I'll have to edit the hell out of this."

Glenn grinned. "It was fun while it lasted but yeah, you'll have to lose that part."

* * *

The Dixon brothers had met their matches but there were accommodations to be made by all parties. During the summer hiatus household arrangements were discussed.

Andrea lived in the heart of a fashionable and expensive area of Atlanta. She refused to move to Benford but said she would exchange her condo for a house on the edge of the city. Merle agreed to this compromise and they moved in together.

Glenn didn't mind giving up his apartment and moving to Benford with Daryl but he insisted on completely renovating the kitchen. Daryl went along with it willingly.

* * *

Months later Merle was spending the evening with Daryl while Andrea worked late and Glenn finished taping a show. Daryl brought out the snacks Glenn made for them and Merle dug in with gusto.

Merle liked to jab Daryl about keeping in shape. He called it a gay thing but never offered a reason why he hadn't let himself go despite being forty and enjoying adult beverages. "After eating Glenn's cooking all this time, I figured you'd be porking up by now."

Daryl handed it right back. "We wear off a lot of calories. Use your imagination as to how."

Merle pretended to shudder and changed the subject. "TV shows don't last forever. What'll Glenn do after that?"

"Open a restaurant in Atlanta. We talked about it. I'll provide some specialty meats. He wants to offer a charcuterie board."

"Hmm," Merle said.

Daryl heard the calculation in Merle's voice and felt apprehensive. His brother's next words triggered foreboding.

"There's sure to be something for ole Merle in a place like that. I'll have to give it some thought."

* * *

Glenn

My show ends after four successful years. The second year it reached regional status in the southeast television markets. The third and fourth years it went national at the network level. I was tiring of the grind by then and was ready for a new challenge. Dale sold the station, retired and invested in my restaurant. I put in my savings, of course, and Daryl and Andrea became backers as well. Merle didn't have much money but he had an idea about how he could contribute. I pay attention to his ideas since they led to meeting Daryl and resulted in two top episodes of my show.

Merle achieves a certain level of fame – or is it notoriety – as the bartender of Atlanta's newest restaurant, _Celebration_.

                                                                                                       


	26. Intoxication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intoxication: powerful excitement of the mind or emotions.
> 
> Merle is back with his public access show Tarnation.

                                                                                

The studio set was the same: two recliners, a table between them and a refrigerator beneath the table. Glenn's workstation was in the corner, screened from view and out of camera range.

"Welcome to Tarnation. I'm Merle Dixon and this here is my brother Daryl. He was on my very first show but you might not remember since he took off so quick." Merle turned to Daryl. "You gonna stick this time or are you planning to leave in a snit again?"

"Depends what you say."

"You got no cause for complaint. I got you and Glenn together last time. Who knows what I might do for you this time?"

"For me or to me. That's what I'm afraid of."

"Show a little gratitude."

"All right, I owe you," Daryl said grudgingly. "That's why I showed up tonight. What am I doing here?"

"I wanna talk about our day job."

"You mean the business I run practically single-handed now that you've got this Tarnation gig?"

"What a whiner. Tarnation has brought in customers."

"Exactly my point. I'm busy and you're hardly ever around."

"Well, I'm gonna do my part now. I got ideas for some new flavors." Merle turned back to the camera. "For folks who don't know, we own and operate Liquored Up, making alcoholic ice cream. Stop in and try our scoops with spirits!"

"So what are these new flavors?"

"Three of them in honor of the presidential election. Things are heating up now that the finalists are chose."

"They're nominees not beauty contestants. And when did you start caring about politics?"

"Since I got a Hometown Media award. I owe it to my viewers to stay on top of things."

Daryl rolled his eyes. "By making ice cream?"

"That's just the hook. I'm gonna talk about the issues on Tarnation right through the election."

"You're pretty good at coming up with flavors. Not sure I can say the same for your take on the issues."

"It's true I don't follow them, but I'll invite other folks."

"What's the first flavor?"

"An all-American theme: _Red, White & Blueberry_. Start with white chocolate liqueur base. Blueberries of course. What should we do for the red?"

"A grenadine ripple would look pretty."

"And taste good. That's one down. The second one I call _Govermint_."

"What!?" Glenn appeared on the set looking worried. "Another mint flavor? Are you retiring our flavor?"

"Course not," Merle replied. " _Mint to Be_ is a big seller."

"But do you need another mint flavor?"

"They're different." Merle looked at Daryl. "He don't know much about drinks, does he?"

"Not a drinker," Daryl agreed. "But he has other talents."

"Lemme explain," Merle said. "You heard of mint julep?"

Glenn nodded.

"Well, _Mint to Be_ is a mint julep. Daryl is the smoky bourbon base and you're the river of virgin mint running through it. And by virgin I mean non-alcoholic since I assume your virginity ship got hit by an iceberg and sunk some time ago."

"If by iceberg you mean my dick," Daryl said. "I wasn't the first."

"But you're the best," Glenn said.

Merle shook his head. "I shouldn't have brung up the iceberg. Let's get back to ice cream. _Govermint_ will be a Bailey's Irish Cream base with crème de Menthe swirl."

"How about chocolate shavings?" Daryl suggested.

"Nailed it," Merle said. "You always add the right touch."

"That's what he says." Daryl tipped his head at Glenn.

"There's an 'N' in government," Glenn said.

"And there's no 'I'," Merle said. "The flavor needs a funny spelling."

"Okay. I just wanted to make sure the misspelling was deliberate not, you know, accidental."

"Fair point, spelling ain't my strong suit. The third flavor is my personal favorite: _Impeached_."

Daryl and Glenn were silent. They looked at each other. Glenn's look said that since he challenged Merle about spelling, it was Daryl's turn.

"Aren't you jumping the gun?" Daryl asked. "Nobody's been elected yet."

Merle thought about this. "You may be right. No matter who wins, somebody'll be calling for impeachment pretty soon after the inauguration. We can save _Impeached_ and roll it out then."

Daryl nodded. "You thinking a peach brandy base?"

"Yep. Marbled with brown sugar and ginger cookie crumbles."

"That sounds real good," Daryl said. "How about we start with _Red, White & Blueberry_? I can work on the recipe tomorrow and bring it out next week. Save _Govermint_ for the election and _Impeached_ for the first impeachment headline."

"We need some new nonpolitical flavors," Merle said.

"I got two in mind," Daryl offered up. " _Carmel-by-the-Sea-Salt_. Caramel cream liqueur with crystallized caramel and sea salt sprinkles."

"Sounds like a winner. Everybody's crazy for caramel and sea salt. What's the other one?"

" _Amaretto by Morning_. Amaretto cream base with an orange liqueur ribbon. That's the morning part."

"What a way to start the day!"

* * *

"With me tonight is Dale Horvath, just back from a trip cross country. Glad to see your RV got you home safe."

"She doesn't look like much but she's reliable. Jim checked her out before I took off."

"You been gone three or four months, all through the campaign. Tell me about the mood in these United States."

"I've lived through a lot of elections but this one is stirring people up more than I ever recall. And for two of the worst candidates in history."

"Who's gonna win? The media appears to be for Clinton."

"I believe the mainstream media is overlooking secret support of Trump. But I've given up predicting these things."

"What's the first presidential election you voted in?"

"Nixon versus McGovern in 1972." Dale was glum. "I voted for Nixon."

"Ouch! That didn't end well."

* * *

"Tonight my guest is Father Gabriel Stokes. Wanna start us off with a word of prayer?"

"Seriously?"

"Why not? Can't hurt, might help."

"Heavenly Father, thank you for the gifts bestowed upon us. May the Spirit be with us and guide us in our talk this evening. In Jesus' name, amen."

"Amen," Merle echoed. "What's the religious community think of this election and these candidates?"

"I can't speak to that. Religion and politics are widely accepted as the two most divisive subjects. Putting them together brings out the worst in people."

"I thought the Pope and Catholics liked to get into politics ever since JFK."

Father Gabriel stared at Merle. "I'm Episcopalian."

"Is there a big difference?"

Father Gabriel closed his eyes and murmured, "Give me strength." He opened his eyes. "Merle, were you honestly unaware that I am an Episcopalian priest, not Roman Catholic?"

"Let's say I wasn't. Enlighten me."

"We don't have time for a detailed discussion of doctrine. I would be happy to meet with you privately."

"I gotta admit I'm not that interested. What about rules? Do you have to be poor and give up sex?"

"Monks and nuns take vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. Priests may marry but it's expected that we practice obedience and not take too great an interest in the laying up of worldly goods."

"Seems like a helpmeet would be an asset to a churchman."

"The traditional role of a pastor's wife has become obsolete in the last few decades but yes, a wife and husband should support each other in their work."

"I'm a matchmaker with three successes. Want to be number four?"

"Who have you set up?"

"Daryl and Glenn, Rick and Michonne, me and Andrea."

"That is impressive. Parish work keeps me busy and there appears to be no one for me within the church community. I'm almost inclined to let you try."

"What have you got to lose?"

"My dignity, my church, my faith."

"You left out sexual frustration."

* * *

"This week Carol Peletier is here to tell us her views on the candidates. Who you gonna vote for?"

"I won't be voting for someone, I'll be voting against someone."

"Lesser of two evils, huh? So which one is evilest?"

"Well, I despise Trump's attitude and treatment of women."

"Understandable. I heard you had a bad marriage."

"Ed is dead and best forgotten."

"Fine by me. What about Clinton?"

"That's what makes it a difficult decision. I'd like to vote for a woman but maybe not this woman."

"You think a woman can do the job?"

"It's not even a question. It's past time for a woman to have the chance. A woman would be no worse than a man and we've survived all of them."

"Are you a church-going widow?"

"What does that have to do …" Carol glared at Merle. "I like Father Gabriel but do not want to date him."

"You heard? Word gets around fast."

"Is that why you invited me on your show?"

"Just checking out possibilities."

* * *

"Making a return appearance is Sheriff Rick Grimes. How's Judith?" Merle asked.

"Uh … she's fine. Growing fast."

"And Michonne. How's that going?"

"Real well. I owe you for getting us together. She's with Judith tonight."

"So Carl got out of babysitting again."

"Well, he's a teenager. Thanks for asking after the family, Merle. I figured you got me down here to talk politics."

"I did. Who you gonna vote for?"

"It's private," Rick replied. "That's why there's a secret ballot."

"Shouldn't us citizens know who our sheriff supports?"

"I'll support the winner no matter who I vote for."

"I'm in favor of newspapers and public officials declaring themselves."

"I'm pretty sure my endorsement wouldn't affect a presidential election."

"Did you run for sheriff as a Democrat or a Republican?"

"I ran for law and order."

"You're a hard nut to crack. What happened to owing me?"

Rick sighed. "I won't say who I'm voting for but I'm registered as Independent."

"What a weasel," Merle said with disgust.

* * *

"Rosita Espinosa is here to give us the benefit of her perspective. Are you Hispanic or Latina?"

"Hispanic-American."

"Legal?"

"Yes, I took a test to become a citizen. Which you could not pass."

"I don't disagree. But enough about me. What do you think of the wall idea?"

"I'm not going to discuss politics."

"There's a lot of that going around. What about romance? You ready for a new man in your life after getting dumped twice?"

"Abraham dumped me but I broke it off with Spencer."

"Better get your stories straight because that's not what he's saying."

"What!? It was definitely me. And he's been sniffing around ever since. He asked me to dinner tomorrow night and I agreed."

"I'd say he wants to get back together so he can dump you."

"I will disembowel that smug bastard." Rosita was so mad she was practically spitting.

"Sounds like you need counseling. I recommend Father Gabriel."

* * *

"Andrea Harrison is back tonight, and she's one smart lawyer. Tell us about the political landscape."

"Absolutely not. I told you I wouldn't talk politics."

"Thought you might change your mind once you got here."

"Why would you think that?"

"You changed your mind about me."

"No, I just decided to accept the consequences."

"That's good enough for me."

"Who are you going to vote for?" Andrea asked.

"As a television personality, I maintain neutrality by not voting."

Andrea snorted. "You're not registered, are you?"

"Nope. Not being on the voter rolls cuts down on calls and mail."

"I have a question: Why haven't you created an ice cream flavor for us?"

"I'm having trouble coming up with something special for you, Sugar."

"Well, I wouldn't be able to try it anyway."

"You love our alcoholic ice cream."

"Not for the next nine months."

Merle took this in. "Are you telling me …?"

Andrea nodded. "I'm knocked up."

* * *

"Eugene Porter is my guest tonight …"

Eugene interrupted. "Congratulations on impregnating Andrea. I entertained hopes in her direction at one time."

"If you're still looking, how about Maggie Greene?"

"My attention has lately been focused on Rosita Espinosa."

"I was thinking of Father Gabriel for her."

"I am not convinced they would be a good match."

"Maybe not. Tell you what, I'll steer Rosita your way and send Maggie to church. Now, you're here to let us know where you stand on the election and the issues."

"That is incorrect. I am here because I was promised a koozie and a coupon for a free scoop of ice cream."

"Don't I get anything in return for the bribery?"

"Politics is a volatile subject and I do not possess the equilibrium to discuss it with composure."

Merle shook his head. "And I wouldn't understand if you did. Here's your koozie and coupon."

Eugene clomped out satisfied.

"Glenn, come out here," Merle called.

Glenn appeared.

"Sit down. Eugene was a bust so you're my guest tonight."

"Honored, I'm sure." Glenn's dry tone said the opposite.

"Nobody'll come on the show until the election is over. I thought folks would like to talk about something important but everybody's been cagey as hell."

"Tarnation gets a lot of viewers. Maybe it's too public a forum for politics among friends."

"What have you been up to?"

"Classes."

"You graduated last spring."

"I'm in grad school now."

"Does Daryl mind you being a professional student?"

"He likes it. He calls me College Boy."

"I didn't know my brother had a kink for education."

"It's not his only kink."

"Say no more. How come you don't drink?"

"I don't need to drink. Daryl intoxicates me."

"That works?" Merle asked.

Glenn was confused. "What works?"

"Daryl drinks, you blow him and get a buzz."

Glenn turned red. "Can that happen?"

"I asked first. You said you got drunk on Daryl."

"That's not what I meant! I was speaking figuratively, like drowning in his eyes."

"Huh. You gonna try the other way?"

" … Maybe."

* * *

"I don't have a guest tonight. Glenn said him and Daryl have a surprise for me."

Daryl came onto the set carrying a small tub and a bottle. Glenn followed with spoons and bowls.

"We made a flavor for you and Andrea," Daryl announced.

Daryl scooped a large dip from the tub into each bowl. Glenn opened the bottle and poured some over the ice cream. They dug in.

"This is my beer brand in ice cream," Merle said approvingly. "With champagne."

"Prosecco is good, too," Daryl said. "But champagne suits Andrea. I'm trying to make a champagne syrup we could swirl through the ice cream but I haven't got it right yet."

"I like it poured on top. And Andrea likes to be on top. What's it called?"

"We can't decide," Glenn said. " _Uptown Girl & Downtown Man_ is too long."

" _Beer and Bubbles_ might work," Daryl added.

"I'll give it some thought," Merle said. "But I'm busy with baby names right now."

          


	27. Conditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conditions: stipulations, requirements.
> 
> Glenn and Daryl apply to be foster parents. Sequel to chapter 7, Relations.

Glenn

"If we do this, I got some conditions."

"Let's hear them." I hope they aren't too restrictive. This was my idea and Daryl isn't completely sold on it yet but surely we're past the point in our relationship where he would sabotage it with conditions instead of just telling me he isn't ready and might never be. I'd be disappointed but I love Daryl too much to let it ruin what we have together. I just think we could have even more as a family.

"No girls."

I'm relieved. "We can't order the exact foster child we want but I don't think that will be a problem. The Department of Family and Children Services probably prefers to place a boy with two men. What else?"

"No babies."

More relief. "That shouldn't be a problem either. Of course men can care for a baby but I bet DFCS likes a woman to be in the picture if possible. Anything else?"

"I guess not."

"You realize that eliminating girls and babies doesn't eliminate potential problems, don't you? There are a lot of troubled teens. We may get a boy with behavioral issues. Maybe substance abuse: smoking, drinking, drugs."

"You just described my brother."

I laugh. "You're right. You've got decades of experience with Merle and I've got three years. We can do this!"

* * *

Applying to be foster parents is grueling. Daryl sighs with relief when the application is filled out. "Glad that's over."

"Step 1 completed," I agree cheerfully.

"What?"

I was afraid of this. Daryl doesn't realize how involved the process is. He's going to think a lot of it is an invasion of privacy. "After they review our app there's a preliminary interview to see if it's worth going on to background checks and toxicology screenings. After that there's an in-depth interview, official home visit and talking to our friends, family and neighbors. There'll probably be surprise home visits. We'll need to take classes in first aid, CPR and basics of parenting."

Daryl looks stunned then belligerent and finally gloomy. "They ain't gonna give me a kid. You'd be better off trying on your own."

"No I wouldn't because I don't want to do this without you. It sounds worse than it is. They're careful but they don't turn people down without a good reason. We'll have to change a few things. We can have a beer at night but no getting drunk. And no more weed on weekends," I add a little regretfully. "We'll give our stash to Merle. We should coach him before they talk to him."

"What about regular cigarettes?"

"You hardly smoke any more. Time to quit for good." We don't have many bad habits. Daryl has always been better behaved than Merle. I'm not much of a drinker and Daryl cut down in his thirties. We share a joint sometimes but mostly because we like to fuck when we're a little high.

"How long will all this take?"

"From app to license granted is nine to eighteen months. The average is a year."

"We could have a kid the old fashioned way in a year."

"Do you have a womb, Daryl? Because I don't, and I don't want to sleep with anyone who does. Besides, she'd probably want to keep her baby. Even surrogacy contracts can fall through."

"Jesus Christ."

"Watch your language. No swearing around a child."

"We'll probably learn a few new words from any juvenile delinquent they're willing to trust us with."

Daryl grumbles but grins and bears it. Or grits his teeth and bears it. It goes better than expected. Daryl scrubs up well although I find down and dirty very attractive, too. Since starting his new job two years ago he's kept his facial hair trimmed and his hair a little shorter than it used to be. He wears a suit to the interview but doesn't dress up for the home visit. I don't either. We're in our own environment and should look natural.

Merle has been warned to stay away during the home visit. He agrees to be clean and sober for his interview. He has a record of misdemeanors: drunk and disorderly, operating a still without a license, discharging a firearm in the Benford city limits. Sheriff Grimes is a friend of ours and he downplays Merle's record in his interview to give the impression that Merle is a fairly harmless screw-up. It's true. Merle should have gotten his life together by now but he's 38 and hasn't grown up yet.

Merle is interviewed by a lawyer instead of our caseworker, no doubt in order to evaluate his criminal tendencies. Carol tells us the lawyer is female which might be lucky because Merle can be appealing to a certain type of woman. The word comes through that Merle's interview went well. The lawyer must be an older woman who thinks there's no such thing as a bad boy.

"Charmed her pants off," Merle announces gleefully.

I assume that's a euphemism until he adds that he's meeting her for a drink.

"Personal, not business." Merle shows us a picture on his phone of Andrea Harrison.

You know who else has a soft spot for bad boys? Smart, beautiful women with poor taste in men.

We like our caseworker Carol Peletier. I feel like she really sees what Daryl and I have to offer a child. Over the months we learn that she was in an abusive relationship. She finally divorced her husband and made a new life for her daughter and herself. Ed died later so Carol and Sophia are completely free of him now.

* * *

Our license to be foster parents is granted on the third Friday of June, ten months after we submitted the app. Two days later I wake Daryl up with amorous overtures. Afterwards I say, "Next year this won't be just another Sunday. We can celebrate Father's Day."

"Mmm." Daryl's voice is low and growly in my ear. "Who's your daddy now?"

"You are," I assure him. "But I'll call Pop anyway."

Our phone call to Michigan isn't just to wish Pop a happy Father's Day. Mom gets on the phone and we tell them we got approved to be foster parents.

Mom is delighted. "When you get a baby?"

I explain that we asked not to have a baby or a girl. Mom is disappointed but Pop has our back.

"Sensible. How those two take care of a baby or a girl?"

Mom won't hear a word against us. "They do fine!"

"Sure," Pop says agreeably. "But older boy better for them." He knows how to handle Mom.

* * *

The call comes in the evening three weeks after approval. Daryl is over at Merle's smoking meat from a recent hunt.

"Glenn, this is Carol. I have a situation."

I should have checked with Daryl but after hearing her explanation I was so sorry about the circumstances that I couldn't turn her down. I want to help and surely Daryl will, too, when he knows what happened. I call Daryl after hanging up with Carol.

"Come home! We're going to be foster parents tonight. Carol will be here in an hour."

"Holy shit."

"Language!" I say sharply before hanging up.

Daryl arrives ten minutes later. We hug, and he asks what Carol said.

"There was an accident and both parents were killed. There's no obvious next of kin so they need to do a search. We're a temporary placement until they locate relatives."

"How old is the kid? Was he hurt?"

"It's two kids, Daryl. They were with a neighbor but she's elderly. Babysitting for a few hours is fine but she can't care for them full-time."

"So, two little boys?"

"Not exactly. A three year old girl and an eight-month old boy."

"What about my conditions?"

"It will only be a week. Think of those poor children."

"Yeah, that's a hell of a thing. I guess it'll be good practice."

"Exactly. Oh, they're Asian. That might be why we got the call."

"Korean?"

"No, Chinese. Maybe they think my face will make the children feel more comfortable."

"Because a Korean man would remind them of their Chinese mama?"

"Just around the eyes."

We laugh. We're excited and nervous but then we remember the tragedy that is bringing these kids into our life and get serious again.

"We'll do our best for them and we'll be better prepared when we get a more permanent placement."

Daryl nods but looks worried. "We don't have anything for a baby."

"Carol is bringing their things." Suddenly I think of something else. "Our house isn't childproofed!"

We spend the next few minutes gathering cleaning supplies and dangerous items from under the sinks and other low places.

"Merle and me played under these sinks with all this stuff around."

"That explains a lot. You left it alone but maybe Merle got into it."

"He does like to experiment. That might have been his start."

An SUV pulls up and we go to meet them. Carol gets out and thanks us for helping in a tough situation. The kids are in the back seat, both in car seats. She brings the little girl out first and introduces us. Cherry looks sad and sleepy, confused and tearful. She's clutching a stuffed rabbit. I go down on my knees beside her and she leans against me. Daryl pats her head. He's uneasy but he's doing fine even when Carol hands him the baby. Chester starts fussing. Daryl looks nervous but I've got my hands full with Cherry and he doesn't want Carol to have second thoughts about us.

"There's a crib in the back," Carol says. "I took it apart just enough to make it fit."

Daryl hands Chester back to her. "I'll get it."

Inside, I give Cherry a cup of milk and Chester a bottle while Daryl sets up the crib in the spare room. He's back in his comfort zone. After that he unloads the SUV, including car seats from DFCS. The Changs had a stroller and a carrier but no car seats. Carol says they didn't have a car; they used public transportation.

The baby is quiet now so I put him in the crib. Carol helps me change Cherry into her pajamas and put her to bed. I feel so sorry for her life-changing loss. We leave the bedroom door ajar and do paperwork at the kitchen table.

Both kids are asleep before Carol leaves.

"It won't be easy," Carol says. "They'll miss their parents, even the baby though he isn't verbal yet. But young children are often adaptable. And you're a psychologist, Glenn. We don't expect you to be a foster parent and a therapist but you'll know what to watch for."

"Of course."

"I hope they'll sleep the night through. It will be good for them and for both of you. I'll call in the morning. And you can call me even during the night. This is all new for you. Good luck." She smiles and says goodnight.

"Do we just go to bed?" Daryl asks after Carol leaves. "I can't sleep."

"Me neither but we should try. Let's get ready. Maybe we can nap."

Daryl and I usually wear underwear or nothing to bed but we've got sleep pants and tee shirts for our new role as parents. Daryl calls Merle and tells him we've got two little kids for a week. We go through their things. We only unpacked enough to get them through the night. Their clothes are well-worn but clean. Probably from thrift stores. Nothing wrong with that. Clothes are expensive and at that age they grow so fast.

I earn a decent salary as a psychologist and will make more eventually as a partner. Daryl does all right managing the sporting goods department of a big box store near Atlanta. He ran the sporting goods section of the local hardware when I met him but the owner Dale Horvath got an offer he couldn't refuse. He sold out to the big box store, retired and went on the road in his RV. He knew his small store couldn't last much longer. Taking on his staff was part of the deal he made so it worked out well for Daryl and others. Daryl and I are both savers and we've been saving more since deciding to foster. We're comfortable but not rich. There will be reimbursement as foster parents but we're not doing it for the money.

Cherry wakes in the night to unfamiliar surroundings and calls out for her mother and father. That wakes Chester up. We hurry in to comfort them. After a potty break for Cherry and a diaper change for Chester they settle down but they're clinging to us and we don't want to leave them. The double bed is big for Cherry but there's just enough room for two men, a little girl and a baby.

Carol calls the next morning to ask how it's going. I tell her we're all fine. I don't tell her the phone woke us. Cherry needs a little help with washing and dressing but does most of it herself. She's a darling little girl. It takes Daryl longer with Chester because he's waving his arms and legs but he's so cute that we don't mind. I take Cherry to the kitchen for breakfast and to warm a bottle for Chester. He's hungry and beginning to cry so I run it in to Daryl.

Merle

Merle stopped by Saturday morning to see what Daryl and Glenn saddled themselves with. Daryl hadn't given any details the night before. He went in without knocking to find a little girl sitting at the kitchen table finishing peanut butter toast and banana, washed down with milk. She had dark hair and slanted eyes and looked like Glenn. Merle could pick Glenn out of an Asian lineup but everybody else looked pretty much the same to him.

"Daryl and Glenn with the baby?"

The girl nodded. "My little brother."

"Daryl is my little brother." Merle struggled for something else to say and settled for the obvious: "Korean, huh? Good thing you can be here with Glenn."

"I'm Chinese."

Merle stared at her for a moment. "I give up." He shook his head and sighed. "I always guess wrong. What's that you got there?"

Cherry held up her bunny.

"I got one, too." Merle pulled a plump rabbit from his game bag. It was dead. Cherry gave a loud yelp.

Daryl

In the bedroom, Daryl heard Merle and Cherry's voices but not words. What harm could Merle do in five minutes? Suddenly Cherry cried out and Glenn dashed back to the kitchen yelling, "Merle, what the fuck did you do?"

Ammunition! Daryl grinned and lingered with Chester in the bedroom to hear more.

Merle sounded abashed. "She showed me her rabbit, I showed her mine. Didn't think how it would look to a little girl."

Daryl peeked around the door to see Glenn soothing Cherry. "It's all right, sweetie. Don't be scared."

Cherry shook her head. "I was s'prised."

"Good girl," Merle said encouragingly. "See? She ain't scarred for life."

Time to make an appearance. Daryl stepped into the kitchen with Chester. "Did I hear inappropriate language?"

Glenn gasped as he remembered what he said. "I can't believe I dropped the F bomb."

Glenn was genuinely upset and Daryl didn't want that. "I'm kidding. Couldn't resist giving you a hard time."

Glenn settled Cherry in the living room to watch Saturday morning cartoons and came back to the kitchen.

"What's their names?" Merle asked.

"Cherry and Chester Chang. Forgot to introduce you."

"Cherry Chang?" Merle repeated. "Cute now but in ten years folks'll think it's a stripper name. Or maybe a pole dancer."

"Do not say that to Cherry!" Glenn hissed.

"Course not." Merle looked offended that anyone would think him capable of such a thing. He'd already forgotten comparing his dead rabbit to Cherry's stuffed bunny. "Chester Chang. Are all these C-Hs a Chinese thing?"

"I love their names," Glenn said.

"We could call the boy Chet for short," Daryl suggested.

Merle watched his brother sit Chester in the high chair and spoon in goopy stuff. "I remember you took to the Grimes girl when she was born. It's coming back to you. And Glenn's good with this girl. Looks like you got a Daddy's Boy and a Mama's Girl."

Glenn

Merle has always thought it was funny to think of Daryl as the man and me as the woman in our relationship. He's not wrong. Some traits generally associated with women are stronger in me than in Daryl, although he helped with Judith whose mother died in childbirth. That was years ago and Daryl hasn't been around a baby lately. It happened just before Daryl and I met but he told me friends and neighbors pulled together. They'll do the same for us.

Proving my point, Sheriff Grimes shows up next. Rick tells Cherry that he has a little girl her age and he'll bring Judy by to meet her tomorrow.

The Greene family arrives before noon bearing gifts. Hershel brings fresh fruit and vegetables from his garden. Maggie hands over a casserole, which is a relief because Daryl and I haven't organized lunch yet. Beth offers homemade cookies.

"Oatmeal raisin," she whispers. "Healthier than chocolate chip."

Beth knows I'll be on nutrition patrol. I try not to go overboard but already this morning I sent Daryl back to the convenience store in Benford. He was on a juice run and returned with fruit flavored sugar water. Unacceptable.

While the children are down for naps after lunch Carl Grimes stops by to help Daryl hang a swing in the backyard. Rick volunteered him but Carl is a good kid and he and Daryl have always gotten along. Daryl was probably thinking of Carl when he made his conditions.

I'm not on call this weekend so I have today and tomorrow free. I arrange to take Monday and Wednesday off next week. Daryl is a department manager but managers have to work some weekends. He called first thing this morning and switched. A lot of employees are part-time and glad to pick up extra hours. He'll take Tuesday off, and Thursday if needed. Cherry and Chester might be with family by then. I have new respect for working parents arranging child care. My psychology firm has a daycare for children of staff and patients but the kids are only with Daryl and me for a week and it's best if one of us stays home with them instead of sending them to strangers. Their world fell apart and they don't need more upheaval right now. I've also come around to Daryl's conditions. A teen or tween boy would be easier. They don't need constant care. A boy close to Carl's age could hang out with him. We could even trust Merle with a tween … for a short time … if the Greene girls couldn't babysit … if absolutely no one else was available.

The swing is a nice surprise – unlike a dead rabbit – when Cherry wakes up. Daryl pushes her on the swing while I push Chet in the stroller. Cherry has been fine today but everything is new and interesting. She'll miss her parents more as time passes without seeing them but eventually she may not remember much because she's only three. Both options make me feel bad for her.

Saturday night the kids start out again in bed and crib. During the night we wake to odd noises and go in to find Cherry half-asleep and trying to climb into the crib with her brother. Chester wakes up and it becomes a repeat of last night except this time we take the kids to our room where the bed is bigger. Bed sharing with babies isn't ideal but a few days won't hurt and we all sleep better together.

Sunday morning Cherry is quiet and melancholy. It's time to exercise my therapist skills so after breakfast we all go to the living room. Daryl sits on the floor in the corner to watch Chet crawling and trying to pull himself up. I take the sofa with Cherry and ask about her mom and dad to get her talking. Cherry is my focus but I wanted Daryl and Chet to be there so Cherry knows we're all in this together. Cherry is more cheerful later but I'm not naïve enough to think one talk fixed everything. It's a traumatic event and working through it will take time.

Rick, Michonne and Judy come over after naptime. The girls are shy at first. Cherry brings out her few toys and a doll to show Judy but it's a sunny summer in Georgia and the swing is more tempting than playing inside. They take turns and are giggling together by snack time.

Sometimes Chester cries – not loudly, it's more of a whimper than a wail – when there's no apparent reason for distress. He's dry, fed and rested but he knows something is different. Thankfully it doesn't last long. He's a good baby and takes a bottle well and is also eating soft food but he nuzzles my chest when I hold him and it breaks my heart. He misses his mother. He does the same thing with Daryl. We don't have what he wants for comfort.

Carol calls on Thursday to tell us it will be a little longer. She's spoken with friends, neighbors and coworkers who all confirm the parents didn't have relatives. She needs more time to make a plan. This is good news for us because Cherry has another play date Sunday. The bad news is that it's time to arrange a funeral for the Changs. Since there's no family and no money the state will cremate them and bury them with others in a potter's field ceremony.

Daryl and I talk about it that night and agree to pay for a private funeral. Cremation is much less expensive than burial. There will be a simple memorial service for the friends, neighbors and coworkers to attend. We can decide what to do with the ashes later. Maybe they'll go with the children to their permanent placement. We don't want Cherry and Chester's parents laid to rest in a potter's field with strangers.

I take the kids with me to work on Friday, feeling like a real father. They're doing better and since they'll be with us for awhile longer, they might as well go to office daycare so Daryl and I can save our PTO. We'll need time off for the funeral or if the kids get sick.

Daryl works Saturday but has Sunday off. Judy invited Cherry to ride her pony in the afternoon. Rainbow Grape is boarded at the Greene farm. We're all going of course. Cherry and Chet have always lived in Atlanta and we don't want to miss their reaction to farm life. Hershel is a retired veterinarian and he has three horses, a flock of chickens, a few cows and pigs and a couple of goats and sheep. It's like a petting zoo.

The funeral is the following Tuesday. We take the children with us. It won't be fun for Cherry but I think it's necessary to help her realize that her parents are gone. The neighbor who babysat them is there. Cherry hugs her and the old lady holds Chester. It's an opportunity to say goodbye.

After the service Carol says the landlord asked that the Chang's things be removed. They rented a small furnished apartment so there isn't much. We've already got the children's stuff. We drive home and I stay with the kids. Daryl changes his clothes and goes to meet Carol at the apartment. Everything fits in his truck. He brings it home and stores it in the loft of the garage. Their family things can go with the children to their next placement.

Daryl is working the next weekend. I stop by with the kids. Cherry had looked around with awe at my office but she likes the store better. She's been in places like this before and they're more interesting than an office. Daryl is a popular manager and his employees like him. So do the customers. He's met a lot of people at all financial levels while hunting. Quite a few sportsmen who can afford to shop at expensive outfitters come to Daryl for equipment and advice. Big box stores like to keep their prices in the low to medium range but Daryl ordered some high-end items and they moved well instead of just sitting on the shelf. Department profit increased so he carries high, medium and low stock now and the store manager is pleased.

Daryl takes his meal break and joins us. I relax my rules and we take Cherry and Chet for fast food. This is what I had in mind when I pictured us as a family.

We know so little about the Changs. I wonder what traits Cherry and Chester will inherit from them. Will they be musical or athletic or intellectual or artistic? Will they love the outdoors because Daryl does? Will they be fascinated by the mind and how it works, as I am? But they won't be with us long enough to be influenced by Daryl and me.

The kids are sleeping better now so they're back in their own room. They're asleep when Daryl gets home. We talk quietly in our room. In the classes that were part of our training as foster parents we learned that it can be very difficult to let children go when it's time. Many children in foster care are returned to their parents. Our kids can't go back to parents but it's still a temporary placement with us. Carol checks in every week. She's still working on the Chang case.

I had called my parents the day after Cherry and Chester came to us. Mom wanted to fly down and see them but I reminded her it was temporary and it might be best if she didn't get attached. I sent pictures instead. Daryl and I can't help but get attached.

* * *

After three weeks we've settled into a routine. Getting all four of us up, dressed and fed is a smooth process. I take off for Atlanta with the kids. Daryl, who doesn't have to be at work until an hour later, cleans up the kitchen. We're home before him but he's back in time for us all to have supper together. If I have an emergency with a patient, Daryl comes to pick up the kids. Chet goes to bed before Cherry. A baby requires a lot of attention so this gives Daryl and me time with Cherry. We read to her in the living room so Chet won't be disturbed and carry her to bed when she can't keep her eyes open.

Cherry turns four in two weeks. We didn't expect the kids to be with us until then but they might be and we can't let a birthday pass unnoticed.

Friday evening Carol calls to tell us a permanent place has been found for the Chang children and she needs to arrange their transfer in the next few days.

"No," I blurt involuntarily.

"Hell no," Daryl says. The call is on speaker.

We're not prepared for them to be taken away from us so suddenly.

"Cherry will be four next weekend and we've got a little party planned," I explain.

"Cherry and Judy Grimes are best friends," Daryl adds. "She's a little younger than Cherry. She'll want Cherry at her party in a couple of months."

"It was a temporary placement," Carol says gently. "We have a couple who will foster with the option to adopt."

"They Chinese?" Daryl demands.

"Well, no, they're both white. But neither of you is Chinese."

"I'm closer than them." I can't stop myself sounding indignant. "We could adopt them."

"Damn right," Daryl agrees. "Fostering ain't gonna work for us. We can't be worried our kids could get taken away any time. That's no way to live."

"Are you really serious? This is your only placement. And you didn't want a girl or a baby."

"Changed our minds," Daryl says gruffly.

"We got lucky the first time," I say firmly.

"The other man and woman are married. It's a stable environment."

"We'll go to the courthouse Monday," Daryl replies. "There's no waiting period."

"No!" I realize how that sounded when there is silence from Carol and Daryl looks hurt. "I don't mean no to getting married. But not that soon. We have to make arrangements. And Cherry needs a dress."

"Like a flower girl dress?" Daryl looks happy again.

Carol laughs. "All right, I'm convinced. You don't have to be married anyway. I was just testing your commitment. Approval for adoption is almost the same as for fostering and you went through that so recently there won't be much more paperwork. I'll start the process."

* * *

Carol's cubemate had been listening to her conversation. Jimmy was new, an earnest young man she was mentoring. After she hung up he said, "The other couple will be disappointed."

"There is no other couple. The Chang children are settled and doing well. I was pretty sure Daryl and Glenn wouldn't give them up. They just needed a nudge."

"Is that ethical? What if those guys let them go?"

"Then I would have found another home for them. It was a small risk with good odds for a better future."

"Those kids deserve some good luck."

"This is lucky for all four of them."

* * *

We call my parents with the news. They're coming to the party to meet their new grandchildren. Genie and Lisa's kids are all older than Cherry now, three boys and a girl, so Mom is pleased to have another girl and a baby in the family.

That night I warn Daryl: "It's perfect right now but it won't always be like this. Cherry and Chet will become teenagers. We'll think they're impossible and they'll think their dads are idiots."

"It'll pass," Daryl says confidently. "We got years to get ready. Better like this than trying to handle a teen right away."

"What changed your mind?"

"Didn't expect to love them so much. Didn't know I could."

"I knew. You love me. I knew you would love any child we brought into our home."

"Go ahead and rub it in that you're smarter than me."

"I could rub something else."

Daryl rolls closer.

"Your tumescent appendage is poking my thigh," I inform him.

"My dick is hard."

"That's what I said."

* * *

Afterwards I start thinking again: "Puberty! We'll have to tell Cherry about her period."

"We? Nope. Merle called them Daddy's Boy and Mama's Girl. I'll have the talk with Chet and you take Cherry."

"In twelve years Cherry will be driving."

"Might not be that long. She might steal our keys and go joyriding when she's thirteen. I did."

"You're not helping."

"Let's concentrate on stuff that'll happen sooner than that. Like Chet walking and talking and Cherry going to kindergarten next year."

"What if they find relatives in China and take Cherry and Chet away from us before the adoption goes through?"

"They were born here and their folks were naturalized. DFCS couldn't find family. If they got relatives in China, they must be distant. I don't think the U.S. will send underage citizens to a strange country when they're about to be adopted."

"Maybe they're lost members of the royal family." I'm coming up with silly scenarios now.

Daryl snorts. "If we're raising a prince and princess I guess we'll have to give 'em up if the Forbidden City asks. But I'm pretty sure China is over that emperor thing. Cherry will have to settle for Disney princess and Chet can be a Jedi. Hey, that could be their Halloween costumes."

"We should take them to China when they're older."

"I hear there's a big wall worth seeing. But the kids are so little they might not care about China when they grow up."

"I don't want them to feel they shouldn't be interested in their roots."

"If they wanna go, we'll try to make it happen. But they're American. Knowing about their folks might be all they want. There's pictures and papers, a few odds and ends. We'll keep that stuff for them."

Just before we drop off Daryl mumbles, "We're gonna need more room."

He's right. The kids are fine together for now but we'll need a third bedroom and second bathroom in a few years. Build, buy or remodel? Beth's boyfriend Noah is studying architecture. He'll have his degree by the time we need to make plans.

Mom and Pop are giving Cherry a pony for her birthday. I sent a picture of her with Judy's pony a few weeks ago and now their granddaughter must have a pony of her own. They fly down three days early to start the spoiling and the next day we go to a sale barn to interview ponies. This means walking around until Cherry makes up her mind. She's wide-eyed with wonder but soon settles on her favorite. I wonder how long it will take her to decide on a name.

Turns out the name is already picked. Michonne helped Cherry choose a name the same way Judith named her pony, by using the My Little Pony name generator. Type your own name and your pony name is generated. So Peppermint Zephyr joins Rainbow Grape in Hershel's stable. Judy's pony would have been Blue Glory if she used her nickname but Judith generated Rainbow Grape. Why settle for one color when you can have them all.

Daryl already bought a child's archery set. I go online, search feverishly for a peppermint striped pony bridle and pay extra to have it shipped overnight. Judy's pony has a rainbow striped bridle and we must keep up with the Grimes. Not really. The Grimes aren't extravagant but Rick got Judy a pony because he felt guilty about not paying much attention to her after she was born. He kind of checked out for a few weeks when Lori died, leaving Carl in charge with help from Daryl and the Greenes. Rick has gone easy on Carl for some typical teen stuff because he's proud of his son for the way he took care of his sister. Daryl and I agree that we're not going to spoil our kids but this is special – Cherry's first birthday with us and deciding to adopt. We also decide to get married when the adoption waiting period is over.

Amazingly, Andrea is still seeing Merle and her gift will be the cake. Andrea has good taste in everything but men so I expect something appropriate for a four year old and am not disappointed. She bought a China Barbie doll, took it to a bakery and had a cake skirt made with the doll in the middle.

Merle offers to provide ice cream. He has an old fashioned hand-crank that makes the best homemade ice cream. Or maybe it's just Merle's recipe. I remind him that vanilla is the only flavoring for this batch.

We told the Greenes and Grimes that gifts weren't necessary but they paid us no mind. The Greenes are boarding the pony free for three months. That isn't the kind of gift that a child easily understands but Cherry is charmed and thankful when Hershel takes her on his knee and says he and Maggie and Beth will take good care of Peppermint Zephyr for her. The Grimes gift is aikido lessons from Rick's friend. It's a Japanese martial art but there's no Chinese equivalent and I think Cherry will enjoy it.

The party is wonderful. Cherry is giddy with excitement. Chester doesn't know what's going on but he's content to be passed around although Mom reserves the right to swoop in and take him at any time. She's talking to Andrea who she just met today.

"How Merle get somebody good like you? I try to set him up years ago but he only come to Michigan to fish with Gene. Not interested in cold weather girls."

"Good thing I'm from Florida."

"You know Merle very well?"

"Yes, and I'm still here anyway." Andrea knows what she's getting with Merle.

Merle is close enough to overhear. "No talkin' trash about me, Lois. I wanna hang on to this one."

Mom hands Chester to Andrea. "Hold the baby. You have one quick, they can grow up together." She smiles triumphantly at Merle.

If Merle is alarmed he doesn't show it. "We need Dixon genes in this family. It's all Asians lately."

I'll give this round to Merle.

Daryl

Adopting Cherry and Chet was right for the kids and for Glenn and him. Life had turned out better than he hoped. Daryl had been unsure years ago because of their very different childhoods but he took a chance and met Glenn's flight. When Glenn moved in Daryl worried that living together wouldn't work for them. Last year when Glenn suggested becoming foster parents Daryl was afraid history might repeat itself and he'd be a poor father. Helping with Judy for a few weeks didn't mean he could do the job full-time.

But Daryl was done with doubts. He trusted Glenn's judgment on most everything, including not spoiling the kids. Daryl didn't aim to bring up entitled brats but he was counting on a little wiggle room there.  
  
Glenn

Following our example, Maggie Greene becomes a foster parent. Fifteen-year-old Enid is placed with her. She had a rough childhood and has been passed from home to home. She's standoffish and runs away after three weeks. When she's found two days later Enid says she figured she wouldn't be there long so she decided to leave before she had to. Maggie agrees to take her back. Enid settles in after that but is still sharp-tongued. Carl doesn't mind her sarcasm or maybe he wants a girlfriend. Enid isn't really into him until he gets fed up and snaps back at her. She seems to respect him then. Rick and Michonne are a little worried. They met two years ago and Michonne moved in a year later. They're trying for a baby and would prefer that to happen before an unplanned grandchild.

The big day is in early April. Daryl and I have a courthouse ceremony in the morning. The adoption is finalized after lunch and there's a party at the town hall in the afternoon. Practically the whole town shows up plus my entire family from Michigan. Dale is back from his latest trip. Cherry's aikido master Morgan Jones is there, visiting with Carol. Carl and Enid sneak away early. Rick and Michonne are taking the kids for a sleepover tonight. The party won't run late because Cherry, Chet and Judy have supper early and then it will be time for baths and bed.

Daryl and I are going to bed early, too.

               

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the link so you can spend as much time as I did looking up pony names for myself, friends, family and WD characters:  
> [My Little Pony Name Generator](http://pony.namegeneratorfun.com/)


End file.
